#and yes I did know about it this entire time.

[clevercatchphrase]

Page 340

(Links coming in afternoon reblog!)

[horseimagebarn]

hello yes i am not pretending horses cannot or do not eat meat or skewing things because as i said anything can eat anything at least once but it doesn’t mean it is very good for it even if it can be in unique situations

i am not someone who exists around horses often so of course i do not know everything but i am always always willing to learn more and do further research and exploration as i am someone who is passionate about research and learning about science and biology and you yourself seem like someone who is also passionate about horses and their biology but in my research i did find many flaws in your corrections the biggest being that you say that the only reason horses do not eat meat is because they cannot hunt it and this is genuinely just completely false

punctuation and capitalization time NOW!

Yes, herbivores can eat meat. This does not mean they should or that they do it “whenever they can.” It is not natural for horses to eat meat and it is usually caused by curiosity, lack of proper nutrition, or boredom.

Horses do not FREQUENTLY eat meat, but they can eat it if given the opportunity and the unique situation. However, this does not make horses omnivores, as they still are designed to eat plant matter as their almost entire source of food. Even when they do eat meat, they do not receive the nutrients they need to primarily survive off of meat or even off of a diet including any significant fraction of meat. When they do eat meat, it is only supplemental, so they are still obligate herbivores. Just because us humans can take iron supplements and get good things from it doesn’t mean it’s natural for us to consume iron in that way or eat larger quantities of iron. Horses can occasionally eat meat but cannot survive off of any reasonable amount of it and eating any sort of significant quantity of it is not good for them, just like eating any significant quantity of iron would not be good for us humans (I know this is not a perfect 1:1 comparison, but you get the idea). Their digestive systems are very sensitive but incredibly long, meaning they’re able to digest meat and will eat it out of boredom or curiosity, but the energy it takes to digest meat is not worth the nutrients they get out of it most of the time (if they are being fed properly). Domestic horses have extra energy saved from not having to survive in the wild that they can spend being bored or curious enough to kill a chicken and eat it, but that does not mean it is natural or meaningful to its diet, except in the case of a horse lacking nutrients like protein, salt, etc. Like I said in the first post, horse digestion is designed to continually process plant fiber throughout the day, as opposed to the spaced-out meals of carnivores, meaning their digestion is moving much faster in order to process their lighter yet much more continuous eating. This means that their digestion, even though it is able to process some amount of meat, moves too quickly to make eating meat worth it in the long run. Most of the times horses are found eating meat is when their environment lacks stimulation, salt, protein, etc. It’s typically humans’ faults that they don’t have access to their right diets while simultaneously having access to easily killable livestock like chickens. In the wild, where horses can freely roam to continuous quantities of their natural diet, they almost never need to eat meat. If they do, it is a very rare occurrence. Deer, while similar to horses in that they are large hoofed herbivores, are not the same as horses cognitively or biologically, so using deer as an example in this scenario is not a perfect justification of this behavior.

I will say that there IS one exception to this. The one meat it is safe for horses to eat is fish, which is funnily enough the one kind you likely wouldn’t find horses or most large herbivores having naturally trampled or scavenged (I know there’s going to be someone out there who has an anecdote of a horse catching a fish somehow so I won’t say it’s impossible, just much more unlikely than a horse successfully stomping a small rodent or bird to death in its pasture and then eating it). Some of the hardiest horse breeds hail from nordic countries that, back in the day, weren’t able to supply horses with their preferred diet of fiber rich plants when it got to winter time, so they instead gave them fish, whose makeup was much easier to digest. However, this is NOT the natural diet of a horse, and you’d almost never find a horse in the wild eating fish, partially due to a complete difference in habitat (water vs land), a lack of ability in horses to hunt fish, and mostly due to a wild horse having much easier ways to get those nutrients from its natural diet of plant matter.

And of course i do not think this is a negative trait, my entire post was against the idea of depicting any animal trait as negative because I think that is an incredibly bad faith thing to do when discussing biology because there is no good or bad when it comes to this kind of thing. Please don’t act like I acted like any of it was bad because that misses the entire point of my post. I just don’t like when people misrepresent horses

sorry for any typos im doing this one on my phone because sleep calls to me yet i refused to answer until i continued to debate with people online about horses also feel free to correct me on anything if i did fuck up i do my best

submitted by @hands-off-my-macaroni

[wonderjanga]

Something that we don't see enough is Captain Marvel bringing Tawny to the Watchtower. Tawny is obviously sized down, but the moment someone (most likely damain!robin) notices him he will start yapping. Then Marvel gets to introduce Tawny to the league.

Billy has taken Tawny to the Watchtower a couple times now. He just feels safe with the tiger on him whether the gentleman be a plush or his actual self. The times Tawny is in Tiger form Robin#5 loves to come over and pet him.

Marvel: “Robin! Hello!”

Robin!Damian: *walks right past him so he can pet Tawny*

Marvel: *slightly put off by that but brushes it off* “Wanna have some tea with me and Tawny?”

Robin!Damian: “I’d like that. Yes.”

Whenever Billy doesn’t bring Tawny, Robin tries to subtly make him.

Robin!Damian: “You are… my favorite superhero.” *lying through his teeth*

Marvel: “Why thank you, Robin.” *smiles* “You’re just saying that so I bring Tawny to the Watchtower again, aren’t you?”

Robin!Damian: “…Yes.”

Marvel: “You know you don’t have to butter me up, right? You can just ask.”

That actually made the kid perk up just barely. He stopped entirely brushing Marvel off after that. Now he only brushed him off somewhat. Anyways, a hero caught them with Tawny one day and that led to the JL interrogating Marvel for where this tiger came from.

Marvel: “So… this is Tawny.”

*silence*

Flash: “Dude, why are you just casually friends with an anthropomorphic tiger?”

Marvel: “What do you mean?”

Flash: “How are you friends with a walking, talking tiger?? Why did you never tell us this??”

Marvel: “You never asked. And we’re just friends because Tawny is a gentleman and I like that about him.”

Bruce wondered for a moment if Marbel would like Agent A because of that sentence.

Tawny: “Is that the only quality of mine you like?”

Marvel: “No! Of course not!”

[kooggukk]

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 NOBODY ELSE // JJK

genre: fwb, fuck buddies😼

note: guys i just want jungkook.. this has been sitting in my drafts for way too long haha sorry for spelling mistakes or anything i got too lazy to proofread it lol! enjoy tho💕

word count: 4.3k

being invited by jungkook’s mother for a dinner was normal for you and your family. you and jungkook grew up being neighbors, attend to the same high school and college later on — which he dropped out of.

it wasn’t because he’s dumb, he’s nowhere near that. he got bored, tired. his mother didn’t like the news when he told her, but she didn’t have a choice, other than to support his dream. jungkook always wished to be a singer.

some of his closest friends joked about it and laughed at the idea of jungkook being a worldwide celebrity. we could say that affected him a lot, he felt zero support from both sides: family & friends. he would often spend his days in his house, sitting on a particular part of his couch.

maybe you know him too well, you know that when he’s writing a song he would get a glass of beer, place it carefully on his coffee table, get his black notebook with his pen that he would click continuously when he’s deep in thoughts.

you know he would knee on the soft mattress beneath him, sitting on his feet like a cutie, focus on the lyrics with his big doe eyes.

you also know he would obviously play with his lip piercing, licking it, turning his tongue around it and what not. oh what that tongue can do.

the amount of times he had eaten you out on his couch, — on that spot of the couch — you wouldn’t even be able to count on your ten fingers. your friendship with him was different.

different, because you support him and understand him in a way nobody else had yet. but different because he fucks you, like crazy. he had fucked you in every way possible. fast, rough, deep, gentle, slow, anal. the last one was just once, though.

it all started at your birthday party, when you turned 25. you got wasted, he got tipsy, he knew about his whereabouts unlike you. he knew what was going on when he fucked you first, but what was he supposed to do when a woman like you, was literally begging to fuck you.

he felt guilty, he felt like he took advantage of the alcohol in your system. but when you woke up in the morning, with jungkook next to you, cuddled up, you didn’t freak out. you knew what happened, and you didn’t regret it. nor did he.

you know it shouldn’t be right, that it shouldn’t feel that good to get fucked by your best friend but god, you can’t help it. he admitted it, he finds you attractive. you find him it too.

but you both talked it out, no feelings. he told you he’d never want anything else from you other than your friendship and pussy.

and now, you’re sitting at the dining table with jungkook in front of you, his mother next to him and his father at the end. your mother on the other end as your father is next to you.

it’s normal, the atmosphere was comfortable and funny. the adults discussing work related stuff, your and his mother had already gossiped about someone else too.

it was a perfect night, except that jungkook hasn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire dinner, except when he got asked a question. you scolded him, non verbally with your eyes.

he’s a jerk. he just fucked you the night before, not on his couch this time though. it was in his kitchen, where he got too turned on by seeing you cut a cucumber. yes, a dang cucumber.

“so ___, i heard you finished college.” his mother spoke to you, your gaze turned to her and you smiled. “oh yes, last week actually.”

“what major were you in?” his father joined in. “psychology.” your mother interrupted and reached over to rub your back, feeling extremely proud of her daughter. you smiled, “i’m thinking about going back, i’ve been researching a lot on nursing lately.”

your eyes stopped on jungkook once again. he’s leaned back in the chair, one arm resting on the back of his mother’s chair, the other resting on his thigh. his chin is slightly lifted, looking at you as he plays with his lip piercing. fuck.

the parents continued the conversation, telling different stories about nurses as that came up. jungkook leans back to the table, resting his chin with his hands, elbows on the table.

he stares at you, not uttering a single word. you give him a small frown, not too noticeable. his eyes drop to your neck, then your chest or atleast what only was visible, then back to your eyes. you chuckled and shook your head in disbelief, he’s seriously thinking of sex right now.

you’ve tried to keep your ‘let’s fuck�� relationship with jungkook private, not going around and telling every second person that ‘hey i fuck my best friend!’. the only person who might know that you and him slept together is one of your friends from college, she saw you and jungkook that one night. the first night.

she hasn’t asked about it though, thankfully. it’s not like it was her business, so she dropped it. you knew he wouldn’t try anything with you in public, especially not in front of your parents. so that’s why it caught you off guard when you felt his leg touch yours, slightly nudging it.

you cleared your throat as you jumped a little from the surprise, a smirk on his lips as he stared at your flustered form. you cussed him out in your head, ‘fuck you’ you mouthed and he just raised a brow at that.

you rolled your eyes as you realized he wouldn’t mind that, his eyes still devouring the sight of you, almost fucking you with his eyes at this point. you don’t even wanna know what he’s thinking about at the moment.

“jungkookie, have you found yourself a girlfriend?” your mother asked, catching his attention. he fixed his posture and shook his head, “no, i’m not looking for a relationship at the moment.”

“he’s such a liar!” his mother pointed at him, “i know he’s seeing someone.” she said and took a sip of her wine. “am i?” he raised his eyebrow, his voice laced with confusion. “deny it all you want, but i found a lipstick in your pocket when you came home.”

his expression changed, his eyes somewhat turned nervous, scared even. you stared at him with a small smirk, taking a sip of your soda. he glanced at you, “must’ve been ___’s.” he chuckled and shook his head.

“and why would her lipstick be in your pocket?” his mother asked, obviously she didn’t believe him. “we came here together, i believe she put it there so she could use it if her makeup gets smudged.” he shrugged.

he was right, that was in fact the reason you put it there. “oh yeah, it’s mine.” you said, a small smile appearing on your lips. his mother nodded and with that the conversation was over. thank god.

as everyone finished eating, your and his mother disappeared into the kitchen, your fathers went outside to have a beer while ‘man talking’ or however they called it. leaving you and jungkook alone.

“you wanna die?” you scolded him, your voice was quiet not to get caught. “i swear junkook, i’ll choke you.” he grinned and rested his head on his hands, smiling at you like a child. “what?” you asked.

“choke me? is that your new kink?” he teased, his foot finding yours again under the table. you clicked your tongue and crossed your arms, “do you ever stop thinking about sex?”

“nope. impossible when you’re around me, babe.” there he goes again, he always somehow finds a way to get you hot. he just knows what to say every time. “you’re unbelievable.” you can’t help but to smile with a shake of your head.

“what? you’re acting like you didn’t just strip me off with your eyes.” he teased and you gasped, “i did not-“ you stuttered, you got caught. “you’re the one to speak.” you argued back.

“i’m not denying it, i did wish to rip that pretty blouse off you.”

“i dare you, it was expensive. the only thing ripping will be your balls when i beat you up.” he scoffed at your words. “c’mon, you wouldn’t do that.”

“you think so?” you raised an eyebrow and he hummed in response. “how would i fuck you without balls?” again, he just knows what to say to drive you crazy.

“touché.” you mumbled and raised your glass to take a sip again.

✩•.𖣠°˙★

the evening came to an end as you both bid goodbye to your parents, you thanked his mother for the delicious meal. he offered to take you home and you agreed, assuming you’d end up at his place anyways. but your parents didn’t have to know about that.

and it happened just like that, the moment you stepped in his home you were pushed to the wall with force. you gasped, jungkook didn’t leave a single second for you to react as he attacked your lips, kissing you.

he held your face in place by your cheeks, your small reticule dropped from your hand as you hugged him close, kissing him back with just as much force and desperation as he did.

his right hand went to grab your ass, then holding your thigh as you lifted it up. he immediately pushed himself closer to you, grinding his growing erection against you.

not wanting to fuck you right at the front door, he dragged you to his living room, pushing you on the couch. he grinned at you and he dropped to his knees, the loud thud must have been hurtful, but he didn’t waste a single second.

he eagerly gripped the hem of your jeans, undoing it and pulling it off you, lifting your hips to help him. “hm, good.” he praised you for that small action of yours, his voice enough to create an ocean in your panties.

he touched your knees and thighs, caressing your skin while he leaned in to plant kisses on your inner thigh. he pulled you a little down, holding your legs tightly and he spread them. “don’t close.” he demanded, his voice hoarse and it sent you shivers down your spine.

you gasped once again when you felt him kiss you on your panties, he pulled away to take off his black turtleneck sweater but went right back in, pulling off your panties in a second.

the cold air hit your core immediately, but soon replaced by the heat coming from his body. he licked a stripe down your pussy, getting a hum out of you at the familiar feeling of his mouth working on you.

your mouth fell agape when he sucked on your clit, your hands finding their way to his black hair, getting a great hold of them. he groaned at your action, he knows you like to get a hold of his hair, so he hasn’t cut it in some months now.

he pulled away, you almost whined about him stopping but then he spread your folds with his fingers, spreading your wetness on his digits. he glanced up at you when he brought them to his lips, licking them.

he hummed, “love it.” he said, his voice a low growl. one of his hand rests on your thigh, gripping it softly. the other goes to your core again, inserting his finger in you. his head goes back down, disappearing between your legs once again as he starts sucking again, his finger pumping into you.

your back arched, unintentionally. “oh, fuck,” your breath hitched, he smirked against you. he added another of his long digits, curling them inside you, he pulled away as he stared into your eyes, then his gaze dropped to his hand working on you.

he groaned at the sight, he’s slept with girls before you, it was obvious he was experienced, but he could swear on his life your pussy was the prettiest he has ever seen in his whole life.

“so pretty,” his voice was teasing and you gasped his name, pulling his head up. “shut up,” your voice was a low murmur and he raised an eyebrow at your sass.

“what? can’t i call what’s mine pretty?” he chuckled and shook his head, secretly adding a third finger. “i don’t want your fingers,” you whined, your hips moving on their own. “i need to get you stretched, babe.” he grinned and he continued, his three fingers now going in a slower pace.

“no,” you stopped his hand, “i’m okay, just-“ you licked your lips, his gaze dropping to them. “shit, just fuck me already.” your voice was more like a whisper, full of need. “you’re tight, i don’t want to hurt you.” he argued back, but his fingers were already out of you as he wiped them in his jeans.

you sat up straight on the couch, closing your legs. “c’mon, you fucked me enough already. i can take you,” he couldn’t help but to let out a small laugh and he nodded, “love that you speak your mind.”

with that said, he got up from the floor and leaned down to kiss your forehead, “i’ll be back,” that one small action of his is why you trust him, how you know that he is the right guy to be fuck buddies with.

he can be rough during sex, there’s no doubt in that, but you had experienced gentle sex too with him. roughness isn’t always necessary to get rid of the sexual frustration, and maybe, maybeeeee, you like it more when he’s gentle with you.

you like it more when his body is pressed against yours, slowly moving with the rhythm of his deep thrusts, you love it when he goes to hold your hand, either above your head or next to you, it doesn’t matter. you love it when he stares in your eyes with every thrust. unlike during rough sex, when his eyes are either closed or focused on your tits.

soon he comes back, a pack of condom with him, some tissues and a towel. “what’s the towel for?” you ask, he never brought one before. he smiled at that and when he got to you, he plopped down on the couch. “just in case.” he shrugged but you felt suspicious, he was up to something.

he put everything aside and leaned in, crashing his lips on yours once again. “how do you want it?” he asked when he pulled away, but he still managed to give a soft peck on your nose.

you frowned because he usually wasn’t like this, wasn’t so affectionate. sure, in other ways he was, especially after sex. he always takes care of you, but he never just pecks you in random places and asks how you want it.

“however you want me.” you shrugged. “you’re up to something, you’re suspicious.” you narrowed your eyes at him and he grinned. “suspicious?” he asked as he started to unbutton your blouse. you hummed and leaned back, letting him do it.

“i’m not suspicious.” he said and kissed the skin just above your breasts, he pulled the clothing off your shoulders when he finished with all the buttons, leaving you in your bra.

“you’re very detailed tonight, aren’t you?” you sighed and reached behind, undoing your bra with a smooth move. “detailed?” he frowned and reached to his belt, unbuckling it.

you hummed and reached to unzip his jeans, with a lift of his hips you pulled it down, his dick begging to be freed from his white underwear. you could feel yourself throb by just the thought of having sex with him again, when in fact you just did it yesterday too.

“it don’t bite.” jungkook chuckled when he saw you were just staring, god, almost drooling at this point. you rolled your eyes, holding the hem of the underwear. you pulled it off, his dick sprang free.

you could let anyone call you stupid, you don’t care but for sure you know that jungkook’s dick is pretty. of course it would be, that whole man is a god. he sighed in pleasure when you wrapped your fingers around him, his head thrown back.

you started off slowly, stroking him with smooth, unrushed moves as you watched his face. his eyes closed, mouth open and eyebrows knitted together. soon you picked up your pace, earning low groans and sometimes even moans from him.

you started to kiss his neck, nibbling on his soft skin. he cursed, it was his favorite when you kissed his body. his breaths came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving with every breath he took.

“shit, ___.” he uttered a low groan, “don’t stop, oh- please..” you hummed at his begging, jerking him off as fast as you could. he was close, you know well enough to see when he has an orgasm.

you see the way his thighs occasionally stiff, his grip on the pillow that reached his hand first is tight. and then you see his eyes staring down at you, sometimes rolling back and closing, then opening them again. you see how his mouth is agape, his low groans turning into soft moans and cries, his brows crashed together on his forehead.

he was just straight up mesmerizing. sometimes you felt like the luckiest woman on earth that you could capture him in this state. which he was in because of you, nobody else.

“please plea-“ his voice cracked, ending it with a louder moan as he reached his orgasm, spilling his white juice on your hand. you didn’t stop there, you slowed down your pace, but you just couldn’t stop.

he hissed when he started to feel sensitive, bringing his head straight back up from the backrest to look at you. “___, don’t,” he whined. you cupped his chin, pressing a soft, feather-light kiss on his rosy lips.

he lazily responded to it, barely moving his lips. he brought his hand on yours, stopping you from jerking him. you pulled away, “just give me a second, babe,” his voice came out hoarse, your heart skipped a beat and your pussy throbbed by the nickname.

he licked his lips, clearing his voice. “you still with me?” you smiled, your hand reaching to his hair, gently pulling a few strands of them. he scoffed and fixed his posture, his hand grabbing your thigh.

“you gotta do more than just a handjob to lose me.”

“more? i can do more.” you mumbled, your face already in his neck, kissing his skin once again.

“i know you can,” his hand went from your thigh to your hip, helping you straddle his lap. you both moved naturally, riding him is definitely in your top 3 positions.

you quickly handed him a condom from the box which he put on in a second and just like every time, your arms went around his neck, grabbing onto his shoulder while he hugged your body close to his with one of his arms, the other hand holding his cock, he carefully entered, stretching you good like he always does.

he sighed in content, enjoying your warm walls clenching around him. you hummed, letting yourself down completely on him, only to go back up, then to smash back down.

his hands grabbed your ass while you did that, helping you keep the steady rhythm. his head was now thrown back once again, you watched his adam’s apple bob when he swallowed, his mouth fell open.

you kissed his neck again, wherever you could reach. for some reason, it was your favorite spot to kiss, under his jaw, behind and under his ear, just right above his collarbone, you loved it.

oh how much he loved it too, your kisses were always wet but never to the point to leave his skin covered in saliva. you were always so gentle with him, maybe that’s what he loved the most.

he had been with a few girls before who would stupidly and harshly just bite down on his skin, leaving ugly marks all over his neck and shoulders, but with you, never. it could be to just avoid any attention by giving him hickies, or it could be because you found it too intimate, too romantic.

whatever the reason was, he knew he sometimes wished, maybe even prayed that this time you would mark him, even if it’s the smallest spot on his skin. of course, he would never tell you to do that, though. marking really does feel too intimate, and he was afraid he would cross a line with you.

he realized what he was missing out on, so he held his head up, looking at you move. your breasts moved just enough to catch his eyes. his fingers dug in your asscheeks as your own hands explored his body, from caressing his chest, then slightly brushing your fingers over his nipples, down to his ribs, and to his abs.

he felt you slowing down, “s’okay, take a break,” he whispered and you did so, stopping your movements. your chest was rising rapidly, sweat forming on both of your foreheads.

he softly pecked your cheek, lifting you up by your ass just enough so he can start pushing upwards into you. he didn’t rush anything, going slowly at a comfortable pace. “you okay?” he asked, his eyes searching for yours.

you sighed, giving him a nod but he shook his head. “words,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss your skin just above your breasts.

“i’m okay,”

he groaned when you clenched around him, he felt himself slowly slipping down on the couch with each thrust he made, so he held you tightly, switching positions.

he made you lay down on your back, your legs wrapped around his waist without slipping out of you. he picked up a slow pace at first, his hands roaming around your body, mostly your sides.

you held his hand, “stop,” you whined, your sides are hella ticklish. “hm? what? can’t handle a little caressing?” he teased, moving his hand so slightly over your skin you got goosebumps.

you tried to push his hand away but you failed, his touches made you giggle and he smiled, glad he could still have moments like this with you in the middle of literally fucking.

all of that stopped when he suddenly smashed himself deep into you, a little harder than he did before. you couldn’t help but to moan, he straightened his posture and he spread your legs, holding your knees.

just like when you were riding him, your breasts bounced again, drawing the attention on them. he picked up the speed of his thrusts, sweat dropping from his forehead, down to his chest where it slowly dripped down his body.

“so a nurse, huh?” he suddenly said, referring to the conversation you had at the dinner. “would love to fuck this pussy in a nursing costume.” a low moan left his mouth when you clenched around him, “ya like that?” he laughed. “you want it too, yeah?”

“shut up- oh my!” your mouth fell agape in pleasure when you felt a finger pressing down on your clit, moving in every way possible. up and down, side to side, making circles. he wasn’t too rough, he knew it was one of your most sensitive parts of your body.

the top of his thighs slapped against the back of yours with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping on each other got mixed with the noise of your wet folds taking his dick, the couch slightly creaking along with heavy breathing and occasional quiet moans, whines.

you felt yourself getting closer and closer, the familiar feeling already in your stomach. you felt like you were going to explode, your eyes shut tightly as you bite down on your lip, your body ready to let go.

after a few more of his thrusts you let go, but oh! turns out it wasn’t just your usual orgasm, no, you squirted under him. he pulled out, watching your body shake and then slowly relax. “fuck,” you breathed heavily, you could have sworn you saw stars.

“did i s-“

“yes. you squirted.” he said, like that was something casual. you thought it was over, that he was done but then he did the unexpected, he pushed back in. “just a little- longer,” his words came out in gasps, pounding into you to reach his own climax too.

you whined, you felt extremely sensitive and it was slowly turning to be the opposite of pleasure, “i know, just a little more,” his voice was soft, he knew it was too much but he needed that orgasm.

then, his thrusts suddenly stopped, staying still inside you as he filled the condom, a low groan leaving his lips. he licked them, feeling like his mouth just turned drier than a desert. he pulled out and leaned down to peck your lips, “you did good,” he whispered.

you hummed, your fingers already touching your core, the wetness surprising you. “dang..” you both chuckled, you sat up and looked down, feeling uncomfortable. there was a wet spot on the towel under you, “you bitch, that’s why you needed the towel.” you shook your head in disbelief, “scared i’ll stain your sofa?”

he smiled and tilted his head, resting his ass on his heels. “actually, yes. you know it was expensive.”

“then, maybe you shouldn’t fuck me on it?”

he chuckled, “maybe, but i don’t care. you’re worth it all.”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Start of Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: angst, panic attack, almost fainting, fluff at the end

Summary: Hotch is the only parent you have left, so you’re a bit overprotective of him. When he comes up with a plan to stop an unsub, you’re the only one who’s not on board.

Square Filled: fainting for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: this fic is based on the song "Start of Time" by Gabrielle Aplin. I also pulled inspiration from that scene in Teen Wolf where Lydia kissed Stiles for the first time since he was having a panic attack. You all know the scene.

x

“You’re kidding, right?” You look at Rossi. “Is he kidding? Did I hear him right?”

“No, you heard it right,” Hotch sighs.

“No, you’re not going to do that. End of discussion. You’re not going to put your life on the line for some psychopath.”

“You have no authority over me.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You slam your hands on the table and leave the briefing room to calm yourself down. Spencer watches you leave with a frown, itching to go after you to comfort you.

“Y/N!” Hotch calls after you, but you ignore him.

“I’ll go after her,” Spencer says and leaves the briefing room.

Hotch looks at Rossi who just shrugs. “Don’t look at me. You said it was fine to have your daughter on the team.”

You’d normally not go after Hotch’s throat like that but he’s the only parent you have left since your mother died a few years ago. Anything that puts his life on the line, you immediately object to. He understands you’re looking out for him but he has a job to do. You knew this when you signed up to be in the FBI academy.

You walk into the bathroom and turn the faucet on to splash some water on your face. The thought of your dad going in to face off against a psychopath and dying makes your heart race and sweat build up on your neck. You look around the empty bathroom and squeeze your eyes shut tightly to ward off the panic attack.

The door opens and Spencer walks in without a word. He immediately pulls you into a hug that slows your racing heart. He calms you down before the panic attack can get too far, and you hug Spencer back. He rubs your back and sighs knowing all you’re ever going to see him as is a friend. He likes you a lot but you haven’t given him any indication that you like him back, so he’s kept his feelings for you a secret. The last thing he’s going to do is tell you how he feels, especially not now when all you’re worried about is your dad.

“Sorry,” you whisper and pull away from him.

“Don’t ever be sorry.”

“You have to help me, Spencer. He wants to go inside that bank alone. Make him change his mind.”

“Y/N…”

“Patrick is one of the worst unsubs we’ve ever dealt with. He kills for fun, for sport. If my dad goes in there alone, he’ll kill him. He’s my only family, Spencer. Make him change his mind.”

“I know.” Spencer sighs. “I can’t promise anything but there might be another way to get to Patrick.”

Patrick has the same tragic backstory as all the other unsubs, and he’s hellbent on making humanity suffer for what he went through. He has so much anger for humans that he’s taking out anyone and everyone. He went to rob a bank to fund his trip across the pond, and he’s taken the entire bank hostage. The only reason he hasn’t killed them all is because they might be the key to getting him out of there alive.

Your job is to get the hostages out safely before SWAT can move in on Patrick. Hotch wants to go in and negotiate with Patrick into letting the hostages go, but you can’t fathom the idea of him going in there with someone like Patrick. SWAT and local police already have the streets blocked off to prevent anyone else from getting hurt.

“Garcia, were you able to get the blueprints of the bank?” Hotch asks when the team arrives.

“Yes, and because there are the sewers below it, I also got the layout for that as well. It might be your only way into the bank.”

She lays out the blueprints on the hood of the police car and Derek traces the pipes from the bank to a manhole cover that’s a block away with his finger.

“We can get into the bank through here. Looks like there is a gate blocking the way in, so we’ll have to break it. We’ll need someone on the inside to distract him so he doesn’t hear us.”

“Alright, Morgan, take Prentiss and three officers with you through the sewers. Wait for my word.”

They leave immediately, and Spencer looks at you in worry.

“Who is going to go inside and distract?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch answers.

He and Rossi step off to the side, and you look at the bank in concern.

“It’s going to be okay,” Spencer comforts you.

“I hope so. Sometimes I wonder if it was right for me to take this job.”

“What do you mean?”

“After my mom died, my dad got overprotective of me. He kept warning me of the dangers of this world. I wanted to help people like him, and the academy seemed like the right thing to do. My dad is the Unit Chief of the BAU. That had some pull in the academy. I was looking at a job upstate as an officer, but then a spot opened on the team. I wanted to be closer to my dad so I took the job. Now, I see the horrors of this job and every opportunity to lose him. He’s the best dad I could ask for. I don’t think I could bear losing him to someone like Patrick.”

Spencer pulls you in for a hug and rubs your back.

“That won’t happen.”

You look at the bank once more and your face is twisted in horror. Your dad is walking toward the bank’s front doors… alone.

“Dad!” You push Spencer away and start to run toward him. However, arms wrap around your waist to prevent you from following him. “No, let me go! Dad! Dad, please don’t go!”

Your dad disappears inside the bank, and you break down in tears. Rossi keeps his arms around you until he knows you’re not going to run after him. You step back from Rossi as a panic attack hits you in the face. Suddenly, you can’t breathe and your heart is beating too fast for you to keep up with.

“You need to calm down, Y/N,” Spencer says.

“I… can’t… I… Da…”

Hot tears are running down your cheeks, and you start hyperventilating at the thought of your dad dying right now. You're gonna faint.

“Kid, get her to calm down,” Rossi says.

Spencer doesn’t think twice about this. He grabs you and plants his lips over yours. Your eyes widen in shock but you close them once you feel how natural it is to kiss Spencer. Your heart rate slows down, your head becomes clear, and you relax against Spencer’s body. He pulls away from you but stays close enough so that the only thing you see is him.

His honey-brown eyes are warm and comforting, and his lips are soft and swollen from the kiss. Suddenly, you hear gunshots go off inside the bank, and that breaks you out of your trance. You push Spencer away from you and book it toward the bank without a second thought. This time, no one holds you back.

The hostages are in the corner with the three officers, Patrick is lying on the ground bleeding from a gunshot wound on his shoulder, and all three BAU agents are standing above him with their guns on him. Most importantly, your dad is alive and well. You immediately run over to your dad and hug him, thankful that he survived this.

“I was always going to be fine, Y/N.”

“I thought I lost you,” you cry.

“I’m right here.”

Patrick is arrested, the hostages are saved, and no one got hurt. Now that you’re back at the BAU, you have time to think about what Spencer did to you. Spencer is at his desk finishing some paperwork when you approach him from behind.

“Hey, Spencer.”

He turns around and smiles when he sees you. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good now. Thank you for…”

You can’t finish your sentence but Spencer knows what you’re saying.

“Yeah, anytime,” he nods.

“You kissed me.”

“I know. I was there.”

“There are other ways to stop a panic attack. Why did you kiss me?”

“I read once that holding your breath can stop a panic attack so when I kissed you, you held your breath.”

“I did?” you whisper.

“Yeah, you did.”

“Was that the only reason you kissed me?”

Spencer opens his mouth to answer but decides against what he really wants to say. “Yes.”

Your face falls in disappointment but you bounce back quickly in hopes he didn’t see it.

“Oh, well, thank you.”

You pass by him to walk away when he grabs your hand. He sees the disappointment, and he takes that as his sign. He stands and pulls you closer to him, and you look into his eyes hopefully.

“That wasn’t the only reason. I like you a lot.”

You smile. “Well, I like you a lot.”

“I know this Indian place with really good food. Want to get dinner with me?”

“Yes,” you smile.

Hotch stands by his window and watches everyone work. He sees you and Spencer by his desk, and he definitely sees the smile on your face. Spencer grabs your hand and leaves with you, and Hotch smiles. Spencer is a good guy, and you’d do well with someone like him.

x

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[trustmypoison]

SVT when you get a new piercing

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘Hear me out, what if y/n pierced their nipples? How would seventeen react? And how would he notice? You told him or like he felt it or when he slid his hand or lifted it up. Please mention how the revelation happens and then reaction 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 ‘

TW/CW: Some of these are suggestive, bordering on a little bit of smut. MDNI. 

A/N: I have some serious trauma when it comes to nipple piercings. More power to you if you like yours, but I did not like mine. 😂

You can’t hide anything from him - Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Minghao

You’re acting suspicious and it starts to worry him. He doesn’t want to pressure you into telling him what’s going on, but he’s really starting to think that something is wrong. Say you guys share locations for safety purposes, like you like to know when he gets settled in the hotel while traveling and he likes to know that you made it home from work when he’s going to be working late. He sneaks a peek at your location during a break one day and sees that you’re at… a piecing shop? His interest is piqued, but he plays it cool when you both get home, casually what you got into today. If you try to deflect or lie, he just calls it out. Like, “uh huh, and how was the piercing shop? 🤨’. You know you’re busted, so you tell him about your surprise. And he is pleasantly surprised! Just don’t try to pull one over on him like that, because it probably won’t work. 

He feels them when he hugs you - Joshua, Woozi

When he comes home from a long week of just missing each other due to conflicting schedules, he pulls you into a hug immediately. It’s really all he’s thought about all week. You’re already in your pajamas without a bra, and it feels… different? But it’s only been a week, so why?? He pulls back and does a quick scan of you and asks if you’re okay. You say ‘of course,’ and he’s not really convinced, but he’s too tired to argue. It’s when he’s got you curled up into his side in bed later that it clicks. Imagine being shaken awake at 3am and opening your eyes to him staring at you and asking, “Do you have something to tell me?” You may or may not be going back to sleep, who’s to say. 

He sees them through your bra/shirt - Jun, DK, Mingyu

Similar to the previous group, he’s just been missing you due to conflicting schedules. But finally, you guys have a free night to see each other! You both are so tired that you both decide to just stay in and order something. You’re wearing a form-fitting top and he’s really trying not to look, honest. He wants to be respectful and he cares to hear about how your week has been, but he also misses your body and being close to you. He glances at your chest, totally meaning for it to just be a glance, but he notices a difference. He reaches out in confusion. “Uh, baby, what is that?” He does not know how to handle this reveal when you show him, at least at first. But when he gets it together, the food will be put aside, conversation totally forgotten. 

He feels them before or during sex - Seungcheol, Chan

It’s been a long week and there’s a lot of frustration pent up. So you aren’t totally surprised when he scoops you up to go to the bedroom as soon as he gets home. It’s as his hand creeps up your shirt or that your shirt comes off entirely, that he realizes something is different. It feels different, or a little sparkle catches his eye. I fully believe that this little revelation would totally change the pace. Whatever you guys were doing before is fast-paced and maybe a little aggressive. But it’ll turn into something sweet and soft, with a little (or a lot) of body worship. Later, he’ll tell you how much he likes them, but for now he’ll show you. 

You have a reaction that gives it away - Hoshi, Seungkwan, Vernon

My experience with this type of piercing is that you don’t realize how many things you bump into until you have it. So, say you guys have just been busy and not really had a lot of time to be intimate lately. You’re in a rush and bump into something. What should have been a small wince that you can keep moving through makes you stop and cry out in pain. He’s borderline panicked, asking if you’re okay. He doesn’t really let you brush it off, wanting to check for bruises or cuts with genuine concern, so eventually, you just have to admit to your little surprise that you were saving for him. And he is surprised and he’ll appreciate it later tonight! But you might get scolded a little bit for now to be more careful. 

[pixiexdusts-world]

At the mercy of his charm

Summary: Y/n struggles to keep her composure around her endlessly charming boyfriend, Min Ho, whose flirty and teasing nature leaves her flustered at every turn.

Min Ho always had that smirk on his face, the one that made my knees weak and my cheeks betray me. It wasn’t fair. How could someone be so effortlessly charming and completely aware of it? And, of course, he knew exactly how to use it against me.

I was sitting at the café, waiting for him to show up. I had texted him about meeting up for coffee, wanting to surprise him for once. But as always, he managed to turn the tables.

“Miss me already?” his voice came from behind me, low and teasing.

I jumped slightly, clutching my phone to my chest as I spun around. There he was, leaning casually against the back of my chair with that trademark grin. His perfectly styled hair caught the sunlight, making him look like he’d walked straight out of a movie.

“Y-you’re late,” I stammered, trying to sound annoyed, though the heat rising to my cheeks betrayed me.

“I wanted to give you time to miss me,” he said smoothly, sliding into the seat across from me.

I tried to roll my eyes, but the way he was looking at me – like I was the most interesting person in the room – made it impossible to maintain any sort of composure. He reached across the table, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.

“You look cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” he murmured, his voice dropping just enough to make my heart skip.

I froze, my brain short-circuiting at the sudden closeness. Did he have to do this every time? Did he enjoy watching me squirm? The answer, based on the mischievous glint in his eyes, was obviously yes.

“Stop that,” I mumbled, looking down at the menu to avoid his gaze.

“Stop what?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“That!” I gestured vaguely in his direction, my voice a little louder than I intended. “The whole… flirting thing you do.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and rich. “But I like flirting with you. It’s fun seeing you get all flustered.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. Why did he have to be like this? And why did I secretly like it so much?

“Hey,” he said softly, his teasing tone replaced by something gentler. I peeked at him through my fingers. “I’m only like this because I like you, you know.”

That made me lower my hands entirely. He wasn’t smirking now. He was looking at me with something softer in his eyes, something that made my heart do a strange little flip.

“I know,” I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

And just like that, the teasing smirk was back. “Then you’ll just have to deal with it, won’t you?”

I glared at him, but it was no use. He knew he had me wrapped around his finger. And honestly, I wasn’t even mad about it.

[emi-talitha]

the thing I love about the Solavellan Veilguard ending is that it is so perfectly the happy ending that Lavellan deserves

Here you have this Dalish woman who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and it just uprooted her entire life. She dealt with being accused of a crime she didn’t commit and still having to use her new power to save the very people calling her a criminal, and then with this power– a power that she is the ONLY person in the world who has it– she suddenly becomes the chosen one of a religion SHE DOESN’T EVEN FOLLOW (depending on how you roleplay your Inquisitor obviously but the average Dalish elf isn’t going to be Andrastian). And now she’s getting this religion thrown in her face constantly whether she likes it or not, and she’s barely allowed to talk about her Dalish beliefs because she has to be The Herald of Andraste. She’s met with racism EVERYWHERE SHE GOES. No one in this world believes in her because she’s just an elf, how could she be the herald? Yet she has to be even when they don’t want her to because if she doesn’t save the world no one else can, so it’s not like she can just walk away or she’ll eventually die too. So she keeps fighting for a world that has continuously treated her like shit and even when she finally earns their respect and admiration, she’s not a person to any of them, she’s some mythological figure. She’s The Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste come to save us all, and no one outside of her own inner circle cares about her feelings or her thoughts or her needs. She’s a means of saving the world, that’s it. This world doesn’t care about her. It never has. When she finally does save it they are grateful, but even that barely lasts before she’s being pulled every which way because the world is afraid of her and the power she’s accumulated, and she smiles and bows and does what she has to do to appease everyone who’s dissatisfied but nothing is enough, and then! Surprise! Here come the qunari and the world needs saving again! And if that’s not already enough Oh!! Her arm is finally getting too unstable, it’s going to kill her!! And depending on your dialogue choices she has a much deserved little breakdown about it and then she’s right back to work. And she does it, the saves the world again, but there’s no such thing as rest, because now Solas is a threat, and if she doesn’t stop him, the world’s going to end, AGAIN, and she has worked and struggled and fought and suffered and sacrificed nonstop for the past two years, for a world that still doesn’t appreciate her, and she can’t stop, because even the people who see her still have expectations, the world still has to be saved, and this is who she is now. She’s the Inquisitor. She’s the one who saves the world.

But after everything, she lets herself make ONE selfish decision, because despite everything, she loves Solas. Solas who saw her when no one else did, who understood her, who taught her about the world and her history. Solas, whose soul spoke to hers. And if Solas can be saved instead of destroyed, she’s going to let herself have that.

And after ten years. Ten years!!! An entire decade since this all began!! He’s finally in front of her, and together they’ve all finally gotten through to him, so at last, the world is finally saved again. And no doubt there’s another threat down the line, but there’s also another hero here ready to step up and do something, a hero hand picked by Varric who she knows will get the job done. She can leave the world behind and know she’s leaving it in good hands.

And finally, after ten years of this exhausting and unfair existence of fighting for a world that barely tolerated her, of never being treated like a person, of losing her clan and her home and her innocence, finally, after all of it,

Lavellan gets to stop. She doesn’t have to fight anymore. And yes, there will be work to do in the Fade with Solas, they’re going there to calm the Blight, after all, but this time, she got to CHOOSE. And this time she’s doing it with Solas at her side, after ten years of loving him, eight years of searching for him, and all that time waiting. And it may or may not be what Solas deserves, I know that’s a matter of debate, but is it what Lavellan deserves? Without question, yes.

Because she gets to choose what she wants for HERSELF for the first time in ten years, and she can finally release the burden she’s carried for all this time.

I just love Lavellan so much, and yeah, she deserves to be treated better than how Solas did, but she WANTS Solas, and after so long of doing what she HAD to do, I just think she deserves to get what she wants for once.

That ending makes me so happy for so many reasons. But it makes me happy for her more than anything.

[neiptune]

a simple complication

cw: 1.6k wc, female reader, miscommunication my beloved, you have no idea how to confess your feelings to the one miya twin who doesn't remember what happened at suna's party

You’ve never once felt uncomfortable in a Miya household but, as you stand frozen by the doorstep, you realize that just might be about to change.

As you take a deep breath, relentless inner monologue giving its best shot at calming you down, Osamu suddenly swings the door open and you find yourself taking a wobbly step back, surprised. One garbage bag in hand, he looks equally startled.

“Hey”, he smiles after a moment, “what are ya doing?”.

You can barely look him in the eye, which only confuses him more.

“Nothing. I mean, I wanted to see you. Was hoping we could talk?”.

“Uh, sure. Come in, I’ll be right back”.

You quickly do as you’re told, take your shoes off by the door and gingerly shuffle to the couch before your brain decides you may in fact be too much of a coward to initiate the conversation at all.

The apartment seems empty, which indicates that Atsumu is either sleeping or simply not home. You try to remember how many drinks he had the previous evening, at Suna’s halloween party, but the entire night is still such a blur. Except from one specific detail that still makes heat crawl from your throat up to the roots of your hair.

God, how could you be so stupid? It’d be easy to blame it all on the stupid drinks Rintaro kept bringing you, liquid courage, a dumb wink sent your way as he casually suggested it was time you stopped being a pussy. No, it wasn’t entirely his fault, although you should’ve guessed nothing good would come out of a halloween party thrown in the middle of January.

You were in a pretty low effort costume, clown makeup, black dress. You’re all adults now, which made you think no one would actually commit to the bit as much as they did back in high school or during college, but were soon enough proved wrong as soon as you saw Aran and Rintaro respectively in a Daphne and Velma costume. They looked ridiculous and spectacular at the same time.

The twins were the only ones proving your theory, they both arrived to the party in casual clothes and not one bit of makeup on. A shame, the opportunity to see them wear mascara or eyeliner is rare but when they do men and women are affected all the same. You clearly remember once catching Rintaro himself staring at Osamu for a little too long.

“What’s up? Are ya hungry? Brought back some leftovers from the shop, we can have lunch if ‘Tsumu didn’t gobble those down”, his voice makes you jump and your friend stops by the couch, brows suddenly furrowed. “Or not. Are you okay?”.

“Yes!”, you should be relieved, honestly, he’s acting normal. Which means that maybe you didn’t ruin anything. Are you about to? Perhaps coming was a mistake-

“What did you want to talk about?”, Osamu has always been way too good at sensing other people’s emotions, he quickly forgets the lunch proposal and sits next to you instead, close enough for your legs to be pressed against each other. You feel like you may be about to combust.

You’ve known him almost all your life, high school feels like a century ago. The Miyas came as a package deal back then, one couldn’t exist without the other, but as time passed and adulthood shaped their lives in different ways, most people thought each finally got to exist as his own person. Those people were wrong: at least to you, they always held their own individuality. It’s what made them special. It’s what made you fall in love with Samu when he was still a hotheaded teenager, parts of that immature youth still flashing through his grown up demeanor, especially when he’s put in a room with his brother.

“I just wanted to tell you I really value our friendship. You know that, right?”, it feels like you might be about to cry, the way your voice is wavering. He cocks his head.

“Why are ya being so formal?”, Osamu offers a warm chuckle.

“You know that, right?”, you insist.

“I do”, his features soften, “not sure what I’d do without you, honestly”.

You only realize you’re tormenting your fingers when he covers your nervous hands with his own, warm and solid and so much bigger. Once more, it reminds you of the previous night and suddenly you’re worried you might truly cry. The twins don’t do well with tears, every single time they’ve seen you cry throughout the years, they always comically panicked as they awkwardly tried to offer some comfort. It never worked. You wish Kita was here to save the day, just like he always did back then.

“Samu, I’m sorry”, you murmur.

“For what? Now you’re worrying me”, he squeezes your hands in his and you look up from your lap to meet his perturbed gaze.

Like a slap in the face, it hits you. He doesn’t remember. Now, this is a scenario you didn’t prepare yourself to face.

Osamu gently bumps his forehead against yours and you almost throw up on the spot.

“Hey? Care to let me in that pretty little head of yours?”.

“You don’t remember?”, you don’t mean for it to come out in such an accusing pitch but it’s inevitable.

“Don’t remember what?”.

Incredulous, you stare back at him. The front door opens once more and this time you both jump. You’re too shocked to pay attention to Atsumu entering the living room, back from a run and dripping with sweat. Samu’s hands on yours can only remind you of how it felt having them briefly take your face in them as he clumsily tried to kiss you back, or maybe push you away, who can tell? You were too drunk and clearly he was too. You basically jumped his bones in Suna’s hallway, thank god no one walked by to witness the way you ran away right after. You wish you were drunk enough to forget that too.

“Hi”, Atsumu says and you’re too absorbed by the vortex of your mortifying thoughts to notice how he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu”, you say back distractedly, gaze kept on Samu’s coffee table.

“Go take a shower, you’re dripping on my counter”, Osamu barks as his brother casually opens the fridge to take out a protein shake.

“What’s for lunch?”, Atsumu ignores the order and flashes him a grin instead.

“My elbow in yer ribs if ya don’t go take a shower right now”.

“Jeez, fine. I’ll leave you both to it”.

Osamu furrows his brows as he watches Atsumu disappear upstairs with his shake and an amused grin he’s unable to interpret. It dawns on him that you barely talked to each other, which is usually not what happens. You’re disgustingly close, always have been walking the line between being siblings and something else he’s never really been able to pinpoint. He remembers once asking Atsumu if he liked you and he knows his brother well enough to be sure he was being sincere when he scrunched his face and shook his head no. Not like that.

Osamu would lie if he said he never wondered whether you could like him like that. But you’ve never been as… relaxed with him. It feels like Atsumu is the brother you’re most comfortable with and all these years he’s patiently waited for the news to drop, the relationship to start. Except it never did. He still wonders if ‘Tsumu had to friendly turn you down at some point. He still wonders if you could ever like the Miya you’re clearly less relaxed with, instead.

“What did I forget?”, Osamu gently grabs your chin to make sure you look up and meet his gaze once more. Your mouth feels dry.

“We…”, no, you can’t just say that. We kissed. Incorrect. More like you jumped him in a clearly drunken state and he was too much of a gentleman to fully push you away. It’s a faint memory, his hands on your face, and you can’t recall at all if his lips moved along with yours at some point. They most likely didn’t. And now, if you tell him, you’ll ruin everything. Maybe you should just keep quiet, be a coward and bury the whole thing in a place within your chest, inaccessible to anyone but your sense of guilt.

“We what?”, for a moment, Osamu’s exceptionally gentle tone, paired with his proximity, is inebriating enough to make you want to kiss him again. Then, something odd catches your attention and you blink a few times, surprised.

“What’s this?”, you reach to slightly pinch part of his dark hair between your thumb and pointer finger, to remove what looks like a gold grain. It’s dry and barely visible on your fingertip.

He follows your gaze and lets you go, slightly pulling back with a smile.

“Ah, that. I thought I washed it all off”, Osamu casually runs a hand through his hair a few times, “it’s temporary color spray”.

“You’re gonna dye your hair again?”.

“Nah. ‘Tsumu thought it’d be hilarious if we came to the party with a costume no one would notice. I think only Shinsuke guessed it by the end of the night and even he wasn’t so sure”, he offers a handsome grin but you feel petrified.

“What costume?”.

“We went as each other! Ya couldn’t tell us apart, could ya?”.

His amused smile slowly melts away as he takes in your horrified expression, eyes growing bigger by the second.

“Are you oka-”

“Oh my god”.

[evelyns-envy]

Hi, I really liked your account <3. Could you make a hc of Daisuke with the reader being Swansea's daughter? But I understand if you don't want to :>

(sorry if the writing is bad, English is not my first language and I used the translator ಥ_ಥ)

YES YES I WILL HAPPILY WRITE THAT (your english is better than mine and english is my first language lmfao.)! this is such a cool idea though and i never even thought of it. this is my first req ever im so excited tysm!!

✎ "but daddy i love him!" (i'm havin' his baby, NO IM NOT but you should see your faces ;)) -taylor swift

warnings! - SMUT HCS + SFW!, vibrator, pegging, reader being swanseas daughter and getting w daisuke, MY FIRST REQ GUYS BE SO PROUD, evelyn is freaky 😼

SFW!!

oh jesus this is certainly a concept

you're there for almost the same reason daisuke is, for in internship.

however... daisuke is there since his parents are rich asf and paid for him to go, you're there because you've been rejected from your dream job and went into a depression due to it.

swansea knew he wouldn't let his daughter suffer, so he asked if you could been an intern on the ship for Anya.

the Pony Express executives were hesitant at first, but caved when Swansea offered for them to renew his contract for longer.

your first day aboard, you make fast friends with Anya and faster friends with Daisuke.

you ended up having to share a room with daisuke, in bunk beds.

a flirty/silly argument about who got top bunk, ending with daisuke going “what if we just share?”

he knew damn well

taking advantage of your stunned face and mind, he jumped up on the top bunk and stuck his tongue out at you.

”i was just joking, mini mechanic.”

100% calls you mini mechanic for the rest of the time on the ship even though technically HES the mini mechanic but wtv let him have his fun

is actually so glad you’re relatively the same age as him, and was really excited to be able to talk w you about younger and occasionally inappropriate stuff

UNTILL he found out you’re his boss’s daughter..!

tries to keep the dirty jokes to a minimum, but fails miserably

it was always pretty obvious that he had a thing for you, even before yall got together

would be asking swansea abt you 24-7 and your hobbies and favorite things only to be met with “stay away from my daughter, juarez.”

is now 10x more scared

and you’re also 10x more attractive to him since he knows he can’t have you

intentionally gets his finger jammed in something while helping your dad so he can go to medbay and see you

once you’re about a month into the trip, you two have regular staying up late and YAPPING sessions in your room

he’ll occasionally come down from his bunk and sit on the floor next to your bed if the topic is deeper, until you notice he looks uncomfortable on the metal floor and tell him to come sit on the bed

anddd thats how babies are made folks! the end!

nah jk anyways you two talk until the early hours of the artificial ‘morning’ on the ship

when yall finally run out of things to talk about, you realize he’s laying next to you and you’re laying on his arm

oh nooo how did that happen (fuck already damn)

“comfy there?”

”shut up.”

”make me, mini mechanic.”

”now is not the time to bring up my father, dai.”

you playing w his hair and growing to understand how much he loves when you do that

eventually falling asleep in each others arms

you cannot tell me this mf isn’t SO comfy to sleep on be so fr

waking up to YOUR DAD 🤗 banging on the door demanding that daisuke get up and come help him fix smth in the storage

getting jump scared and shaking dai awake bc bro is knocked out and snoring

him opening the door and yall having to act like you weren’t wrapped in each others arms, entirely consumed in the other

holy shit that was fuckin poetic

awkwardly waving bye to him, both of you having a knowing smile tugging at your lips

he eventually asks you out, VERY awkwardly and in the middle of one of the routine late night talks

you accept happily (no shit)

doing basically everything together

always bringing dai along when you’re in front of your dad js for funsies and to piss him off a little

even while swansea doesn’t seem like he approves of the relationship, he secretly loves how sweet and gentle daisuke is to you

+ his parents are rich so you’re set!!

always telling Anya you need to go ask your dad something when really you js wanna see your pretty boyfriend

you both love each other so fucking much it’s insane. and getting your dad to approve is next level

NSFW….!! (watch out 😛😼 ‘ya girl evelyn is a wee bit freaky)

if you’re a little bolder, you definitely jerk dai off under the workbench where both he AND YOUR FATHER are working (this hc isn’t mine i saw it somewhere else on tumblr btw i js love it sm)

ok listen. dai is a sub at heart, but a bratty sub.

tries to talk back to you? his ass is getting bent over the nearest surface and fucked stupid by your strap (it’s always close by 😼)

also jacking him off while another crew mate is nearby, one i think would be good is curly’s bday celebration. jacking dai off as he’s trying so hard to focus on making the cake while all you can focus on is his slutty noises spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

going down on him while he’s talking abt his usual unluckiness when trying to find a girl to truly love him, and now js his money. slowly unzipping his jeans while he keeps ranting, breath slightly jagged now.

“they alway-.. (y/n)? uh- what are y- mhmmm. never mind. feels good.”

he says as you gently tug his pants down, letting him fall around his ankles as you look up at him w those fucking eyes. shit. he’s a goner.

leaning back against whatever wall you undoubtedly have him pushed against, head thrown back as his trimmed nails run through you hair, egging you on.

you’re totally in swansea’s office change my fucking mind and he’s sitting on your dad’s desk 😋

“don’t mess up any papers, pretty. don’t want my father finding out you were gettin’ all ruined by his daughter on his desk, now do you?”

“n-no.. don’t mm- don’t want that.”

“then keep quiet and be good.”

he’s so fuckin freaky he’s defo an exhibitionist

you’re a girl- so you obviously brought a vibrator be SO fr w me rn

you definitely press it against his tip while slowly licking up the base

he is SO vocal that you have to tie his hawaiian shirt around his mouth so that he won’t YELL

gets cum on an important paper and yall have to throw it away lmfao

swansea being confused as shit abt where the document went and has been searching the Tulpar and asking all the crewmates if they’ve seen it

oopsies…

[babydollslibrary]

YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, KID — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

published: February 3rd, 2023

summary: in which y/n spent her high school years changing herself to become what she thought was Jack’s type, but when they meet again a few years later, she learns that she never needed to change in order for him to like her.

warnings: eating disorder mentioned and lightly described, weed mention/use, alcohol mention/use, light profanity, changing yourself for a guy (yes, that is a warning), this is mostly angst.

notes: for timeline purposes, i should mention that i wrote this with a summer birthday in mind for y/n.

important: THIS FIC IS NOT ROMANTICIZING ED’S.

GIF by teex

14 YEARS OLD

it was in my freshman year of high school that i noticed i was a bit different than other girls my age. with them having middle school relationships under their belt, and most being in sports rather than chorus like me. i didn’t really think much of it, as boys played no part in my life besides as defacto muses for my songs. but i still felt out of place.

16 YEARS OLD

it was in the summer before my junior year that i met Jack Hughes. a USNTDP hockey player and my first official crush. my family had rented a lake house and the Hughes’ ended up being our neighbors for the summer. My parents quickly befriended Ellen and Jim, and when they realized they had children the same age, all four of them tried for weeks to get Jack and i to hang out. but to no avail, because i was shutting myself in my room for some quiet writing time, and Jack was always busy with his brothers. but when i had slipped away from my parents to go for an evening swim one night, apparently Jack had the same idea. we saw each other at the lake and got to talking, becoming friends pretty quickly after that. it was 2 weeks into the friendship that i realized he made me feel things that my other guy friends didn’t.

when we split up at the end of the summer, we promised to text, but a couple weeks later i was pleasantly surprised when i was called into the school office to show him around. with pretty similar schedules, we were seeing each other in school quite a bit, and from that our friendship only grew. i sat with him and his friends at lunch, he would pick me up for school on the mornings that my car wouldn’t start, and he would even walk me to my classes sometimes.

but because of that, my feelings grew too. i did a full one-eighty, changing my entire personality. i stopped spending my weekends at home, instead opting to attend parties, just in hopes of seeing Jack there. and i found any excuse to talk to him, for even just a minute.

**

i’m sitting in my room, struggling with my math homework when my phone starts ringing. i peel my eyes away from the worksheet to glance over at it, and my heart flutters when i see Jack’s name, his picture lighting up the screen. i quickly press the answer button, holding the phone up to my ear.

“hey” i say.

“hey! you texted saying you have a question?” his voice is raspy, words coming out slow and slightly slurred, and i can hear Trevor, Alex, and Cole talking in the background. he’s smoking weed.

“uh, yeah. i had a question about the Algebra 2 homework, but i can just ask you tomorrow when you’re in a better state of mind.” i laugh.

“how’d you know?” i can hear his grin through the phone, and it makes me smile.

“call it best friend’s intuition. i’ll let you get back to the guys.” i tell him. we say our goodbyes and i hang up, taking another second to stare at my phone with a goofy smile before i turn back to my math homework.

**

during the school year, i listened to him talk about each girl he was seeing throughout the year. each of them pretty, skinny, and blonde. and eventually, i wondered if he would like me as more than his annoying best friend, if i looked like those girls. so i would stare in my mirror for hours some nights, pinpointing things i should change about myself. as like most teenage girls, i had always been insecure, wishing to change myself. but now i learned to use Jack as an excuse for it. and from there, things started developing.

i begged my mom for weeks to let me dye my hair, and when she finally caved, i went to the salon and went blonde. but my hair wasn’t the only thing that changed. my eating habits were altered. slowly at first, just cutting out certain foods, and then all at once. i started skipping meals, excusing myself from dinner by saying i had a large lunch, leaving the house quickly in order to avoid breakfast, and only eating at lunch when Jack expressed concern about my lack of food. like now.

“good afternoon, hockey knuckleheads. your favorite person has arrived.” i announce my arrival at the lunch table while dropping my book bag by my seat, interrupting the boys current conversation. they all look at me, quickly saying their hello’s.

“y/n, you’d give me an autograph, right?” Trevor asks, and my face pinches in confusion.

“uh, what?” i ask.

“like, if you knew you were gonna be famous one day. you’d give me an autograph right now, right?” he clarifies.

“ignore him.” Jack laughs, pushing Trevor’s face away from he and i. he turns back to look at me, eyeing the empty tabletop in front of me. his smile drops and he turns to his backpack, pulling out a protein bar. he throws it over on the table in front of me, it landing with a smack, making me flinch.

“eat.” he tells me. my eyes bounce between the snack and him, studying his serious expression.

“i’m fine, Jack. i ate a big breakfast this morning, so i’m not hungry. keep this for when you need it at practice.” i tell him, sliding the snack back towards him. but of course my stomach speaks volumes, deciding right then to grumble loudly. Jack raises an eyebrow at me and slides the bar back over to me. i sigh, opening it up and taking a bite. he smiles at the sight, and it makes my heart skip a beat.

“good girl.”

17 YEARS OLD

it’s the end of senior year now, and i’ve gotten no closer to dating Jack than i was before. i’ve spent countless nights alone in my room, writing songs about him and crying over snapchat stories of him with other girls.

it’s another friday night, and that means another party in hopes of Jack seeing me dressed up. this time, my own party. with my parents out of town for the weekend, i took the chance to throw a party, inviting what felt like my entire grade in a mass text.

i walk around the house, my blonde hair curled and in a half-up-half-down do. i’m decked out in a tight fit black mini dress with black ballet flats to match, and i did a full glam makeup look. i scan the living room for Jack, but when i finally find him, i immediately feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes.

he’s sat on the couch, a pretty blonde draped across his lap, whispering in his ear as he nods, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her steady, and a grin on his face. our friends were sat around him, some having their own discussions, and some singing along to the music playing on the surround sound speakers.

i go to spin back around, fully planning on going upstairs to my room for a quick cry, but before i can fully turn, i lock eyes with Jack. he raises his hand in a wave and beckons me over and i offer a weak smile in return. i look around the party once more and feel something snap inside of me.

i feel so stupid. i’ve spent the last almost two years of my life changing myself to try and get his attention and to have him look at me in a new light. spent almost two years overanalyzing his every move and i let my final two years of high school slip by me. instead of living in the moment and enjoying my rapidly declining time with my friends, i was wondering if Jack had seen my snapchat story, or if he did then why didn’t he slide up? amongst various other things to do with him.

i was done revolving my entire life and every decision i make around a guy who obviously doesn’t like me the way i like him.

21 YEARS OLD

it’s been four years since i started living for myself. in that time, i went to a treatment center for my eating disorder, graduated college, moved to New Jersey for a new job, and made new friends. i haven’t talked to Jack in three of those years. not because i didn’t want to, but because after high school, our friendship fizzled out. he went on to play in the NHL, and i went to college. we both lived busy lives, and it became too much to handle. i still talk to the other guys, Trevor the most, but not nearly as much as i used to.

now i’m sat in a club. it’s a saturday night, and my friend Yaz wanted to go do her favorite hobby. seeing how many men she can get to buy her free drinks. currently, she’s chatting up a cute brunette with an accent out on the dance floor, and i’m sat by myself at the bar. drinking an almost gone shirley temple and wondering why i agreed to go out when i would much rather be snuggled on my couch with a blanket and a movie. i’m debating telling Yaz that i’m gonna leave, when a guy sidles up next to me, taking the seat on my right and throwing me a smile.

“hi, i’m Dawson.” he holds his hand out and i slip mine in it, shaking.

“hi, i’m y/n.” he nods before turning back to a table of guys.

“IT’S HER!” he yells over, and my brows furrow, face pinching in confusion. he turns back to me and smiles again. “sorry. my friend said he thought he knew you, but he didn’t wanna come over and then be wrong.”

it’s at that moment that a shadow encases us, and i glance over my shoulder to see the one person i wasn’t expecting.

“hey!” Jack takes a seat on Dawson’s abandoned chair. i didn’t even notice he had slipped away. “it’s been so long!”

i blink a few times, just taking in the man in front of me. he looks good. like, really good. i wasn’t naive enough to think that the love i held for him had been snuffed out, i’m just comfortable with myself enough now, that i know that changing myself for him won’t do anything except hurt me.

“hey.” i breathe out. “wow. uh, i wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“yeah, i wasn’t really expecting to see you either. what are you doing in New Jersey?” he asks. okay, it’s not like i’m stupid. i knew Jack lived in New Jersey. i just also know it’s a big state and the possibility of us running into each other was slim. but apparently the universe likes to laugh in my face.

“i live here.” i tell him. “i moved here a few months ago, for a job.”

“and you didn’t call me? i thought we were friends!” he jokes, and i stiffen at the word. friends. yeah, that’s all we’ve ever been. “can we go somewhere? to talk?”

i nod and he leads me out of the club. i send a quick text to Yaz that i went outside for a few minutes, and she responds with a thumbs up emoji. Jack and i stop outside the entrance. the club stopped letting people in about half an hour ago, so there’s no line, just us and a bouncer standing about fifteen feet away at the entrance.

“well, you look good! you went back to your natural hair color, i like it. it suits you better than the blonde.” Jack starts off, and his words strike a nerve in my heart. he didn’t like me blonde? i knew it didn’t change anything with how he felt about me, but i didn’t know he disliked it in general.

“you look healthier too. that makes me really happy, y/n. my mom told me a couple years ago that your mom said you got treatment for your…disorder. i’m really proud of you.” my heart breaks a little more at his soft tone, he seems genuine. “i saw you earlier, with your friend. you have the spark in your eye back. i’m really glad you seem happy again. i’m just sorry i didn’t do anything before, to help you with anything you were going through. i was a naive kid, i just thought you’d come to me if you were struggling. but looking back, i realize that i should’ve reached out to help you regardless.”

“Jack, you shouldn’t blame yourself. you were a kid. i was a kid too, i didn’t understand the full extent of what i was doing.” i tell him. tears prick at my eyes and i blink them away.

“can i ask you a question?” he asks.

“of course.” i nod.

“why did you do it? was there a reason? i mean, at the time, it felt like you completely just changed overnight. but maybe it was a gradual thing and i just didn’t realize it back then.” i lose hope in keeping my tears at bay, letting one roll freely down my cheek. “you don’t have to tell me. obviously. it’s your business. i just- i’ve been wondering.”

i take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to explain.

“i was a naive kid, Jack. i liked a guy and i thought if i changed myself, maybe he would like me too. but it didn’t work, and instead i realized that i was just harming myself by not eating, doing things i hated, going to parties just to try and get his attention. looking back at it now, it was stupid. but back then, it seemed like the best idea i had ever had.”

“you did all that for a guy?” he asks. but his tone isn’t the usual one i get from people when i tell them about my past. it’s not incredulous, or judgmental, or even pitiful. he just sounds, sad. i just nod my head. “well, whoever he was, he wasn’t worth it. if a guy doesn’t like you for you, then he’s an idiot, and he doesn’t deserve you. i’m really glad you see that now. although, i wish you would’ve known it before.”

if only he knew.

“switching the topic.” i say, and he lets out a small breathy chuckle. “how have you been?”

“i’ve been good. just, trying not to get injured on ice, ya know?” i nod along.

“oh yeah, i remember. i still don’t understand why you would put yourself through that barbaric game.” i joke and he laughs. the sound causes butterflies to erupt in my stomach, and it almost feels no time has gone by at all. i still feel like a lovesick teenager.

before either of us can speak again, my drunk friend stumbles out of the club, an arm looped through Dawson’s.

“hey, i thought i’d bring this one back to you. she kinda seems like she might need to sober up some.” Dawson tells me, and i thank him. Yaz lays her head on my shoulder, and Dawson says his goodbye to me and Yaz before slipping back inside.

“who’s this?” Yaz stage whispers, studying Jack who still stands in front of me. Jack and i laugh at her drunken attempt at being quiet.

“this is Jack.” i tell her. “Jack this is my friend, Yaz.”

“Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack.” Yaz repeats, and it’s like i can see the gears turning in her head. “that name sounds so familiar. Jack.”

“hey, wait! isn’t that the name of that guy you told me about? the one you were madly in love with in high school?” she blurts out, and my eyes turn as wide as saucers. i can feel my face heating up. i turn to look at my friend, who apparently has absolutely no filter when she’s had too much to drink. before any of us can say another word, a blue car pulls up and Yaz’s sister, Cara, steps out. “Yay! my ride!”

Yaz stumbles over to her, only stopping to turn and blow me a kiss before letting her sister help her in the car. Cara throws me a smile and a goodnight before getting in herself and driving away. leaving only me and the guy Yaz just exposed my love for.

i turn back to Jack, finding him wide eyed and repeatedly blinking. i open my mouth, but nothing comes out. i’m not sure what to say. but apparently Jack does.

“it was me?” he asks, pointing to his chest. “i was the guy?”

i feel like i might be sick. i never meant for him to know. i thought i would take that secret to my grave. i manage a weak nod, not able to physically speak.

“why- i mean- why did you think you had to do those things to yourself, y/n? i- i’m just— i’m so confused.”

“you had a type.” i shrug. “you dated all these girls, in high school. and they all had the same things in common. blonde, skinny, pretty, outgoing. you liked all those girls romantically so i thought maybe if i was more like them, you would like me like that too.”

“but i did like you like that!” he exclaims. i furrow my brows and my nose scrunches in confusion.

“what?” i whisper.

“i did like you romantically! i just thought i never had a chance with you. so, i busied myself with other girls. why do you think none of them ever lasted long?” he asks.

“i don’t know, i never really thought about that.” my head swarms with all this new information.

“because, they weren’t you.” he pleads. “i tried to forget those feelings for you by dating other girls, girls that before i met you, were my type. but they weren’t you. none of them were you.”

he steps forward, taking my face in his hands.

“i can’t believe you thought you had to change for me. fuck, i’m so stupid. i should’ve just told you i liked you when i first realized my feelings.” he breathes out.

“you can tell me now if you want?” i offer meekly, my head spinning. i want to kiss him. i’ve waited almost six years for this moment, and dear god i want to kiss him. now quite possibly more than ever.

“i love you, y/n.” he whispers. “i’ve loved you since the summer we were sixteen and you tried to push me off the dock into the lake, and i pulled you in with me. i still remember when you popped back up in front of me in the water. my first thought was ‘she’s so beautiful.’”

i inhale a shaky breath before tilting my head up to cover his lips with mine. kissing him with desperation and need. need to not waste another second that i could spend being with him. Jack is frozen for a second before his lips start moving against mine. his hands trail down my body to grip my hips, pulling me towards him. we fit together like a puzzle piece. my own hands grip the hair at the nape of his neck. we pull away from each other, and i look into his eyes.

“i love you too.” i whisper. “if that wasn’t obvious yet.”

“yeah? i don’t know, i think you might need to show me again.” he smirks and leans back down capturing my lips in a kiss once more.

[ecrivainsolitaire]

A summary of the Chinese AI situation, for the uninitiated.

These are scores on different tests that are designed to see how accurate a Large Language Model is in different areas of knowledge. As you know, OpenAI is partners with Microsoft, so these are the scores for ChatGPT and Copilot. DeepSeek is the Chinese model that got released a week ago. The rest are open source models, which means everyone is free to use them as they please, including the average Tumblr user. You can run them from the servers of the companies that made them for a subscription, or you can download them to install locally on your own computer. However, the computer requirements so far are so high that only a few people currently have the machines at home required to run it.

Yes, this is why AI uses so much electricity. As with any technology, the early models are highly inefficient. Think how a Ford T needed a long chimney to get rid of a ton of black smoke, which was unused petrol. Over the next hundred years combustion engines have become much more efficient, but they still waste a lot of energy, which is why we need to move towards renewable electricity and sustainable battery technology. But that's a topic for another day.

As you can see from the scores, are around the same accuracy. These tests are in constant evolution as well: as soon as they start becoming obsolete, new ones are released to adjust for a more complicated benchmark. The new models are trained using different machine learning techniques, and in theory, the goal is to make them faster and more efficient so they can operate with less power, much like modern cars use way less energy and produce far less pollution than the Ford T.

However, computing power requirements kept scaling up, so you're either tied to the subscription or forced to pay for a latest gen PC, which is why NVIDIA, AMD, Intel and all the other chip companies were investing hard on much more powerful GPUs and NPUs. For now all we need to know about those is that they're expensive, use a lot of electricity, and are required to operate the bots at superhuman speed (literally, all those clickbait posts about how AI was secretly 150 Indian men in a trenchcoat were nonsense).

Because the chip companies have been working hard on making big, bulky, powerful chips with massive fans that are up to the task, their stock value was skyrocketing, and because of that, everyone started to use AI as a marketing trend. See, marketing people are not smart, and they don't understand computers. Furthermore, marketing people think you're stupid, and because of their biased frame of reference, they think you're two snores short of brain-dead. The entire point of their existence is to turn tall tales into capital. So they don't know or care about what AI is or what it's useful for. They just saw Number Go Up for the AI companies and decided "AI is a magic cow we can milk forever". Sometimes it's not even AI, they just use old software and rebrand it, much like convection ovens became air fryers.

Well, now we're up to date. So what did DepSeek release that did a 9/11 on NVIDIA stock prices and popped the AI bubble?

Oh, I would not want to be an OpenAI investor right now either. A token is basically one Unicode character (it's more complicated than that but you can google that on your own time). That cost means you could input the entire works of Stephen King for under a dollar. Yes, including electricity costs. DeepSeek has jumped from a Ford T to a Subaru in terms of pollution and water use.

The issue here is not only input cost, though; all that data needs to be available live, in the RAM; this is why you need powerful, expensive chips in order to-

Holy shit.

I'm not going to detail all the numbers but I'm going to focus on the chip required: an RTX 3090. This is a gaming GPU that came out as the top of the line, the stuff South Korean LoL players buy…

Or they did, in September 2020. We're currently two generations ahead, on the RTX 5090.

What this is telling all those people who just sold their high-end gaming rig to be able to afford a machine that can run the latest ChatGPT locally, is that the person who bought it from them can run something basically just as powerful on their old one.

Which means that all those GPUs and NPUs that are being made, and all those deals Microsoft signed to have control of the AI market, have just lost a lot of their pulling power.

Well, I mean, the ChatGPT subscription is 20 bucks a month, surely the Chinese are charging a fortune for-

Oh. So it's free for everyone and you can use it or modify it however you want, no subscription, no unpayable electric bill, no handing Microsoft all of your private data, you can just run it on a relatively inexpensive PC. You could probably even run it on a phone in a couple years.

Oh, if only China had massive phone manufacturers that have a foot in the market everywhere except the US because the president had a tantrum eight years ago.

So… yeah, China just destabilised the global economy with a torrent file.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Warnings: Yandere/obsession, power dynamics, creep! Dick Grayson, creep!Barbra Gordon, mentions of implied harassment, dark themes.

A/N: Just thinking about how fucked up it'd be living in the Manor with those hunger crazed lions..(aka horny and obsessed young adults) I need to get this drabble off of my chest. I wrote this open enough so that whatever relation you choose to have to the Batfam is your choice.

Bruce's current lover? Poor uni student who was offered to stay at the manor by one of the many batbrats? Adult bat-sis who's at their wits end? That's your business..

and it doesn't matter because the stalking, the constant harassment masked as "affection", the insane power dynamics and fear tactics...it's all enough to drive anyone mad,,and it's made worse by the fact they are constantly treating you like the family's very own Barbie doll. You're pushed and grabbed and expected to go along with any and every fucked up role-play scenario that they've conjured up.

The mansion feels like a dollhouse, you know the kind that's cut in half so all rooms are on display so you can monitor all your dollies at the same time? Yeah, just like that. You feel stripped of any ounce of privacy or security, even in your bedroom (which you've checked hundreds of times for listening devices and cameras...or a very lost Wayne adoptee hiding under your bed) felt invaded.

You could be locked in a tight storage closet and despite being certain that you were completely alone and away from everyone, you still wouldn't be able to shake the eerie feeling that you were still exposed and vulnerable. Somehow you still felt like you were on display for them to monitor like a doll.

The last straw had to be while you were taking a shower. Despite the family's usual degenerative behaviors, there seemed to be a silent rule to not go into your room unless you were away. Probably for plausible deniability that your missed placed items and gut feeling that someone's been tampering around your room is all in your head...since you've never caught anyone in the act.

Regardless you would lock your bedroom doors, windows and the door leading into your bathroom (even at times barricading them) just to prevent any unwanted visitors...

Admittedly though, you did get startled because just a few minutes after stepping into the running water, you started to hear faint noises from outside your door before going silent only moments later.

The sound was muted and ambiguous enough for you not to fully panic. There were many possible and reasonable explanations for what you just heard. The manor was excellently well constructed, yes, but it was still an old building nonetheless. There were times where you could hear things from far away or rattling in the ventilation system that sounded like it was closer to you than it actually was. Not to mention, no home was exempt from an occasional "ghostly haunting".

You continued scrubbing the deliciously scented shampoo into your scalp and blocked out any worries that tried to anxiously crawl its way into your mind.

As it was time to rise, water ran through out your hair down your body taking all the leftover suds with it.

Suddenly your ears perked up to another sound.

You held your breath for a second to hone in on it to make sure it was just the same one from earlier.

It wasn't.

...there was almost like a sliding sound, close to what a desk drawer would make when you pull it...then what sounded like rustling of clothes, papers, and things on your vanity.

Your heart dropped and your entire body went into a catatonic like state. There's no way someone was actually in your room right now. There seriously couldn't be, your doors were securely locked. You knew it, your constant paranoia caused you to triple check them and then once more for good measure. And out of all the times, why did they choose the one you were completely nude and defenseless? Was this planned? Some sick kind of power play? Did they know you'd be far too petrified to storm out of that bathroom with only a skimpy towel wrapped loosely around your chest and half-empty shampoo bottle to confront them with?

If you didn't think that the feeling of being vulnerably exposed could become all the more suffocating, you were greatly mistaken. Whoever it was that's rummaging through your room and taking full advantage of your helplessness , hit a new all time low.

Fortunately they stayed relatively distant from the bathroom for a while. It didn't appear that they had any interest in whatever you were doing in the bathroom, only to find whatever they were searching for..then leave out before you were done.

The identity of the perpetrator was still unbeknownst to you before they started inaudibly whispering. Well,,more like low talking than whispering, they didn't care enough to fully prevent their voice from being heard by you,,, The voice was feminine yet had a sense of authority...? irritation....? It wasn't exactly clear but the tone was reminiscent of a teacher demanding a student to do,,,or rather not to do something..

It had to be Babs..or..maybe it was Cass?..You weren't positive as when they were both upset, their voice was kind of similar.

The movement of things presumably being displaced or stolen stopped and another voice spoke back to the other. This one sounded masculine with a hint of immaturity in their voice.

Each minute that passed, their voices became louder and louder, clearly an aggravated disagreement had broken out.

The intensity of the atmosphere from your bedroom, seeped through the cracks of the door and flooded the bathroom.. You listened intently trying to get any ounce of clarity as to what they could've possibly been upset over.. If the circumstances had been different, you might've laughed at the absurdity of them fighting over one of your socks or a used tissue..

Even with their voices becoming increasingly louder, and all the more heated...it stayed mostly inaudible, no thanks to the running water and your unstable state that made it a bit harder to process what was really going on..

The only thing you could make out were a few words but nothing that made sense when you tried piecing them together.

The room eventually fell silent again..only for a beat. You thought maybe they'd come to terms with whatever it was that riled them until the masculine voice spoke up again..

This time you could understand him clearly as his voice was all of a sudden alarmingly close to the bathroom door..

"...It's fine..a little peak is fine..."

I don't even need to explain the amount of sheer horror that swept through your body and caused your heart to pound. The two voices were bickering about whether they should open the door to your bathroom or not.. You knew the people that you lived with well enough to know that they were notorious for pushing boundaries and then some just to see what they could extort out of you..but this??

Being only seconds away from being violated,,,possibly traumatized as well for a cherry on top was more than enough to sink a pit in your stomach.. You recognized the voice to be Dick's, and even though all the people you lived with were all just as creepy, he was a different level of disgusting. The only one who says weird things, while doing even wilder things, all with the most beautiful smile you've ever seen. The patterned shower curtain wasn't enough to protect you from him them.. getting a peak would mean pushing past the curtain..and pushing past the curtain would turn into...

fuck. You needed to do something, anything to try and protect yourself but your body couldn't move..

The door knob started being fiddled with. Turning and pulling, Dick was trying to see if the door might've been unlocked.

"Shit. Where did you put that lock pick at?"

The irony.

"Come on, maybe this is going a bit far.." Barbra spoke with

Scoffing would be an under-reaction to that statement.

You didn't need to see him to know the desperation Dick exuded when he finally found the lock pick. The sound of it being shoved into the door pierced through your chest and struck your spine. The hairs on your body stood pin straight, and goosebumps cascaded down your entire body tightening your skin..

"Didn't you say you wanted to do this before? This is our chance."

"Yeah...."

"But...? Aren't you just a little bit curious...? We're just looking. Nothing more..we're not going to touch her.." It was unnerving the way he said those last lines..almost as if he was trying to convince himself more than Barbra.

Tears started to swell your eyes as they both got closer to opening the door and laying their eyes on the lewd sight in front of them..eagerly you kept trying to snap yourself out of it's shocked state. Even the water's warmth had turned into a chilling temperature.. in only something you could describe as the house's cynical way at confirming your impending doom... but the only movement you managed to accomplish was to violently shake..

come, on..move..

your towel is right there, just grab it.

please,,,just fucking move.

Dick had finished cracking the lock and his hand grabbed onto the door handle and twisted it slightly...

"....we just..we need to plan this out better. It's too risky, with Bruce being home. We can't manipulate our way out of this one, not after what was found on Tim's computer..."

There was a long pause before an exasperated sigh was let out.

"..."

"..fine...we'll wait until B takes his trip.." His words gritted out like venom behind his teeth, he meant what he said.

No words were exchanged after that but you could still sense their presence. Dick kept his hand tightly wrapped around the door knob, doing everything in his power not to go through with his desires at the moment. And as much as Babs played the devil's advocate, for a moment, she wanted him to open that door too..

You weren't sure how long they were still standing there in silence, debating their actions before they finally left, you were long disassociated by then.

They were gone but not the damage that they caused. You've never felt so disgusted and dehumanized in your entire life. You weren't a human being to them only a doll. They're far more concerned with Bruce's judgment than your dignity. They couldn't care less that you know that they are going to try to violate you again, and exactly when...Bruce doesn't believe hearsay..and the thought of having to see their faces after this made your blood boil.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Shelter - 1

Summary: You save Soap's life. It might have ruined yours. But now you're stuck with the 141 and the man named Ghost won't stop looking at you. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley/F!Reader (No Y/N) Warnings For This Chapter: Canon typical violence, my attempt at writing Soap's accent, soft Simon, military inaccuracies, canon divergence right off the bat.

A/N: My first COD fic! I hope you guys like it. It will be a slow burn because Reader needs a hug and therapy and Simon is awkward but also needs a hug. Enjoy!

This had been your first vacation in ten years. Ten. You had wanted to wander around London, see the sites, eat pub food, try to see how much the city had changed since you had last visited, ages ago when you had a summer internship at the British Museum. And now you were bleeding out on this shitty, dirty floor. There was shouting somewhere to your left as you hazily stared up at the dark ceiling.

You had made it three days before some guy pulled you off the sidewalk and shoved you into the back of a van. There had been a sharp pain in your neck before the dark came. When you came to, your hands had been tied and you were in the belly of an abandoned tube station, if you were guessing. Your captors were speaking Russian—rapidfire and stilted, but you did recognize some of it. Most of it. Maybe. If your undergraduate studies were still holding up. But you did know something for sure: you were curled up and hiding near a bomb. To keep your mind from wandering about when you were going to be the next hostage shot or when the bomb would explode, you started repeating whatever you heard to yourself, quiet and low. Cities, people’s names, shipments, shipments, shipments. You hadn’t done this in years, your therapist would have a field day, but this was better than the waiting. This was better than the pleading your fellow hostages were doing, begging for their lives.

You kept repeating what you learned. More shipments. More cities.

An immeasurable amount of time dragged on; how many days and nights passed, you couldn’t tell, but you knew exactly how many other hostages your kidnappers had killed before you were the only one left. And you weren’t entirely sure if it was because they had other plans for you or if they had actually forgotten you were there, huddled near the bomb. Perhaps you had taken the saying, “the closer we are to danger, the further we are from harm,” too seriously.

But it mattered little when the fighting started and a too warm hand clapped on your arm. And then the brightest pair of blue eyes were staring at you. The man had the most ridiculous mohawk you’d ever seen but you couldn’t really tell him that, not when he was pressing a finger to his lips. A quick glance down showed his UK flag patch on his vest and you felt the smallest bit of tension slip from your shoulders.

“I’ma get ye outta here, lass,” he said, Scottish brogue winding through your ears.

You only nodded and let him move you into a crouched position. He and another man in a ridiculous hat worked on defusing the bomb, working in tandem on either side as your eyes swept toward the door. You were nearly there. Nearly free.

You were going to get out of here. You were going to live. You were going to see your sister and her baby. You-

-Came to a hard stop when the shooting started.

You curled into a ball behind the bomb as the shouting started but then you heard that ridiculous Scottish accent again. And yes, it was stupid. But you had always been a little stupid. You were on your feet again, hands still tied in front of you, before you could think of anything else to do and ran, shoulder down into the man tussling with the Scot and another man in the dumbest hat you’d ever seen. The man with the gun let out a wet ‘oof’ when your shoulder connected with his side and you both fell to the dirtied floor. You hadn’t even heard the gun go off.

Hadn’t felt anything but a heat blooming across your shoulder.

And then your knees buckled. “Oh.”

A quick glance to the left saw your once white shirt now a dark crimson. Pity. You’d liked this top. Your blood was roaring in your ears but you did remember someone saying the bomb was defused…that was good. Great. Wonderful.

A choked gasp was torn from your throat when large hands clamped over your shoulder and you saw those blue eyes again. “Now, why’d ye go and do that? Made a mess, ye did.”

“Next time,” you ground out between clenched teeth, “I’ll let you get shot.” Dark dots were starting to cloud your vision even as the grip on your shoulder grew tighter. You vaguely heard him shouting for someone to throw him something before he turned back to you. He was bleeding, too, crimson streaked across his face and neck. More of it slithered down his arm.

“We’ll get this cleaned up. Cannae have a bonnie lass bleedin’ out in a place like this.”

And you had to smile. You did, even if you looked absolutely insane, because this was probably the first time in over a decade that someone was nice to you and you had been shot.

And then the Grim Reaper loomed over you, skull bright as he blotted out the light above him.

“Fuck.” The word slurred on your heavy tongue. “Guess I’m dead, then.” The ridiculousness of the situation was not lost on you, even as the light faded and you were out cold.

Your eyes opened slowly, weighed down and scratchy. It took a moment for you to realize you were in a hospital room, small, stuffy, and a worn shade of off-white. Uncoordinated fingers plucked at the thin, bleach-stiff sheets across your hips before you tugged at the neckline of the light blue hospital gown and frowned at the large dressing taped over your shoulder. A single wiggle against the flat pillow let you know you had a matching one on your back. Wonderful.

Well, at least you weren’t dead?

The door opened and a bespectacled man popped his head in. His bright eyes connected with yours for just a moment before the door snapped shut again.

What just happened?

You got your answer a handful of minutes later when your tiny room was filled with several more people, doctors and nurses checking you over and a woman—Laswell, you think she said her name was—staring at you from her place in the corner. She was biding her time, you knew that. Her American drawl had thrown you for just a moment, a stark contrast to the English accents coming at you from all directions. You tried to keep up with all the information they tossed at you, about your stitches, the physical therapy you’d need, how to keep movement to a minimum before helping you into a sling to keep your arm immobilized. It went on and on. The pain meds were keeping you from scratching at your shoulder but it did feel a little like your brain was swimming through your skull.

And three of them said the same thing: “You’re lucky you’re alive. It nearly nicked your subclavian artery and you would have bled out.”

Comforting.

And through it all, Laswell was quiet but when she pushed off the wall, the group of medical professionals dispersed.

“You’ve been through a lot.”

You said nothing as she stepped closer and set a manilla envelope on your bedside.

Her eyes darted to the envelope for a moment, obviously expecting you to take it but she continued on, unperturbed for now, when you did not. “From what I understand, you saved a man’s life and gave them an opening to be able to diffuse the bomb. I would actually say that all of London owes you their gratitude.”

“I doubt I’ll get it though, right?”

Laswell smiled. “Good. You’re smart.” But she still tapped at the folder again.

Fine. You picked up the folder and undid the thin rope closure as best you could with one hand and tipped it open across your lap, spilling paper and pictures across the blanket. One was of the man with the mohawk. And then… “Wait. He’s real?” You plucked one of the pictures up and waved it around like a flag. “I thought he was the Grim Reaper.” A man in a skull mask was staring back at you, large and hulking, and draped entirely in black aside from the SAS patch in the middle of his vest.

“You wouldn’t be the first to think that. But probably the only one to see him like that and live to tell anyone about it.”

Again, so comforting.

You flipped the picture over to see Ghost written in neat, small letters across the bottom. What kind of name was Ghost? He wasn’t a ghost. You flipped over a handful of the other pictures and learned the mohawk belonged to “Soap.” “Gaz” and “Price” soon followed—ah, he was the one with the ridiculous hat. But it was the last picture that had your heart stalling.

Vladimir Makarov was written in that same, small script.

“He’s dead, right?” Your voice shook as you stared down at the picture. “Tell me he’s dead.”

Laswell’s measured silence was all you needed before you hurriedly stuffed the photos and paper back into the folder.

“My flight back to Chicago is leaving on the tenth. What day is it?” You asked, tossing the folder to the foot of the bed. The simple motion had your other shoulder protesting, heat rippling across your chest and down your spine.

“It’s the ninth.”

Relief flooded through you. This would be over soon and you were never going to take another vacation, no matter what your sister told you. “Great. I’ll be out of the country in a couple of hours. Do I need to sign something or-”

Laswell frowned and took a few steps toward you and tension once again wound itself through your spine with each of them. “I don’t think you understand. Makarov’s plan didn’t work because of you-”

“Debatable.”

“-and you saved one of the men who Makarov has a personal vendetta against.”

The heart rate monitor was now leaping all over the place, beeping a sharp staccato into the tense air. You didn’t like this. You didn’t like this at all. “So? Makarov doesn’t know who I am. One of his lackeys grabbed me. He barely saw me.” You had been one of many, another faceless victim to his whims.

But Laswell shook her head. “I guarantee it; he will not forget you.”

Funny. You’d been forgotten by almost everyone else and you were apparently unmissable to a psychopath. “I am supposed to be going home. I want to go home.”

She took another step. “I’m afraid that until Makarov is in custody, it is safer for you to stay-”

“Am I being arrested?” You bit out.

“No.”

“Then I’m free to go.”

Laswell’s lips rolled into her mouth for a moment. “No.”

Traitorous tears stung at your ears. Stupid, so stupid. You hadn’t cried in front of someone else in decades. Tears didn’t help with anything and here you were, crying in a hospital bed in front of a stranger. “I need to go home.”

Another step and she looked down at you, eyes just shy of pitying. “You’ll be dead before you get off the plane.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” She took the folder and opened it again, pulling out one of the papers you hadn’t read and another picture. She set both on your leg with a sigh. “You were taken out of London when you were stable enough to move.”

The next breath stalled in your lungs. “What?”

“Makarov has a long reach. You were wrapped up in it the moment you saved Soap. The hospital room in London that simply had your name on the door was raided. They killed a nurse.” Every new bit of information was a punch to the stomach, leaving you wheezing for breath and throat aching. “Makarov doesn’t do half measures. And he’s in the wind right now and staying quiet since his plan for London failed.”

Something you hadn’t touched in years started to bubble beneath your skin. A rage you hated. The rage that had kept you alive as a kid. “Then do your fucking job and get him. I’m going home.”

“Any word? Movement?” Gaz asked as Simon looked over the print outs of intel and loops of camera footage from the tunnels where Makarov could have fled.

“Nothing.”

Nothing.

Nothing.

He hated it. He hated not knowing.

There were leads, of course. Strings to be pulled on to see where they could go.

But Makarov was in the wind. And every night, he heard the woman on the other side of the thin wall cry whenever she thought no one would hear.

You did not go home. Instead, you were bustled out of the makeshift hospital room and into yet another infuriatingly beige room, your shoulder smarting with the movement even with the sling. At least the baggy sweats they’d let you wear were comfortable. You recognized Soap as Laswell had you sit in a cold metal chair on one side of the table.

“Good ta see ye up and about, lass,” Soap said. The stitches across his face were mostly covered by butterfly bandages that crinkled when he smiled at you. He then pointed at his own sling, barely holding his bulky arm up. “We match.”

You almost returned the smile. Almost. “Glad you’re not dead, too, I guess.”

“I wanted to get a look at ye,” Soap said. “Properly thank ye fer saving my life.”

Your mouth twitched into a small smile. “I think it was a mutual saving. You defuse a bomb, I keep you from getting your brains blown out. We can call it even.”

He laughed, hearty and jovial. “Ye’re tough. That’s good. Ye’ll need it.”

He was trying to be nice to you, you knew that. He seemed nice. Really! But you still felt the snark and sarcasm trying to climb its way out of your throat. You bit it back, probably grimacing the entire time. “I’m not the one shipping off to Kastovia.”

The smile slipped from Soap’s face. “What?”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to read his expression. “I assumed that was where you were going? The guys in the tunnels mentioned it a couple of times.”

“You speak Russian?” Laswell cut in.

What was this line of questioning? You turned as best you could to look at her. “Yeah, sorta. I took a few classes in undergrad.”

“And you didn’t think to mention you overheard anything while you were held captive?”

“You’re CIA. He’s SAS,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder to point at Soap. Your stitches protested immediately, knocking the wind from your lungs for a moment. “I kinda figured you guys had all the information you could get from that shitshow.”

Soap rose from his seat and left the room without a look back as Laswell rounded the table to stare down at you. “You had information and didn’t share it. You know how that looks.”

“I was shot. Did you forget that?” You bit back. “Then you tell me I can’t go home. What was I supposed to do? When was I supposed to offer up any of this? When I was unconscious?”

Laswell’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “You don’t trust me.”

The scoff tore itself out of your throat before you could even try to stop it. Scoffing at a CIA agent probably wasn’t your smartest move, but, again, you knew you were kinda stupid. “Wow. Look at you. That scary CIA training is paying off, huh? Love to see my tax dollars hard at work.”

The door opened again and Ghost walked in, shoulders nearly brushing each edge of the frame.

Your entire body tensed as he quietly neared the table and took the seat Soap had vacated. Laswell nodded at him and he tipped the point of his cloth-covered chin. And then she was gone with a snap of the door behind her. You pulled your gaze back to the man…the behemoth…in front of you. His mask was no less unnerving than it had been in the tunnel when you thought he was the Grim Reaper coming to usher your soul into the ether.

But this close you could see the dark honey of his eyes and that turned something else in the dark shadows of your chest.

And you knew you couldn’t be afraid. Not now.

“Ask me anything,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. But what if they didn’t believe you? What if he really would be the last face you saw, like you had believed in the tunnel? “I’ve nothing to hide.”

He huffed. If it were anyone else, you might have guessed it was a laugh. His eyes, hooded and dark, dragged over you. “We’ll see, bird.” In one swift movement, he placed a handgun on the table and then reached across to grab your uninjured arm. He pulled it toward him before you could even think of pulling back. He twisted his grip on your wrist to have your palm up and only then did he release you.

You knew better than to retreat. You needed them to believe you—you were the victim in all of this. You. Not them. You. If you had to sit here with the Grim Reaper to prove it, you would. But it was when he tugged the glove from one of his hands that you felt your next breath stutter behind your teeth. And you were sure he felt it when he pressed the tips of his fingers against the delicate skin of your wrist’s underbelly.

He was warm. Solid. And oh god were you really this touch starved? That the man tasked with interrogating you—to make sure you weren’t a terrorist—was making you burn all over like a schoolgirl? It didn’t help that you felt his broad legs on either side of yours beneath the table.

Get it together.

He asks you questions and you answer. Truthfully. You listed all the places you’d heard, names you could decipher, cargo, shipments, everything. Anything.

Ghost listened to it all with that same hooded stare anchored on your face. Someone else probably would have squirmed under his gaze but you didn’t. If anything, his immovable presence was weirdly comforting. What was wrong with you?

And when you were done, when you had exhausted any and every bit of information you thought you had squirreled away from your time in the tunnel, the man in front of you simply drummed his fingers against your pulse and stood, putting his gun back in its holster and pulling his glove back on.

Funny, you hadn’t realized there were more bones stitched on them, too. At least he was consistent.

He strode toward the door and then turned back to stare at you again, unblinking. “Stay put.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly allowed to leave.”

His dark eyes narrowed for a moment and he huffed. Was it a laugh? You didn’t know, but you wanted it to be. But he left the room before you could ask.

It had been a risk, he knew, and had done it anyway. She could have been a spy, a trained one, good at deception and emitting pity. But he had felt her heartbeat skitter beneath his fingers, an impromptu lie detector. Simon knew she was being truthful. An open book.

A rare thing in times like these.

Well, open enough for him to believe her answers and her muttered instance that she wasn’t “some sort of Russian plant” because she wasn’t “dumb enough to be a criminal.” She was…something else. Simon wasn’t quite sure what that something was, but he knew that he thought of the curve of her bottom lip when he left the room and reported what he learned to Laswell and Price.

The pair looked at each other, matching looks of knowing on their faces. Her knowing about Kastovia hadn’t been expected but it didn’t seem like she knew that they (Gaz and Price) had already gone and had been led on an infuriating game of hide-and-seek with the transport of the Sarin gas. If the bird had been awake (or more willing to share what she’d heard before), they would have been back on base days earlier because it had been exactly where she’d say they would be.

“We need to keep this quiet. Makarov already knows she’s alive and at least suspects that she heard something. He wouldn’t’ve sent his men to the hospital if he didn’t.” Laswell scratched at her chin. “If any more of her intel pays off, this could be invaluable.”

The two continued, looking over the points Simon had written down after leaving that tiny room. And there had been shipments and their locations, names of people who probably would receive them, and then targets. Possibly. It was so much more than what they’d had when Makarov had vanished into the belly of the tunnel.

“She’s given us gold.”

“Or an unpinned grenade.” Laswell sighed and flipped through the pages again, handing one to Price and they spoke again in low tones. Simon listened, as he always did. They would still be sent out, following those breadcrumbs, with glowing red letters.

Something twisted in Simon’s chest, behind the crooked and dark ribs, and he thought of that curve of her bottom lip. “What happens to ‘er?”

You didn’t mind paperwork. Not really. Was it your favorite thing? No. But it was a fact of life that paperwork was inevitable. You almost liked that most of it was the same: sign here, date here, birthdate here. Easy. Simple. Unchanging.

But you weren’t entirely in love with how you knew you were basically signing your life away as Soap stood sentinel in the corner, his matching sling still around his bulging arm. They’d already “handled” your job, telling your supervisor that you had been injured and would be taking a leave of absence from work.

They promptly fired you.

Laswell winced at that and then said that “they” would take care of it. Who “they” were, you didn’t know and didn’t have the wherewithal to ask at the moment. But she inferred that your bills would be paid by someone else so you didn’t really care. Whatever. You’d been an archivist at one of the many museums in Chicago, cataloging anything and everything that came in. It had been good work, to be fair. You were actually using your degrees and the fact that they had you working overnight was almost a perk. It was nice to not have to worry about coworkers’ feelings or them microwaving fish in the communal microwave when you were trying to work.

But…whatever. It was fine. This was…fine.

You were given three meals a day and sometimes a snack. Tea in the early afternoon, much to your delight. You had a warm bed. Things could be worse.

Whenever the doctors or nurses would come in and check on your stitches and your range of movement, he would just be there. In the background. Waiting. Silent and unmoving.

And the painkillers you were given must’ve been some good stuff because you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Or maybe his unhurried gaze was weirdly comforting. Knowing he was there, was always going to be there, was nice. A weird constant in the upheaval of your life. (And maybe you should call up your therapist after you finally get home.)

You signed your name on the last paper and then managed to stack everything neatly with one arm before handing it to Soap who took it with a small smile. “Ye’re handling this well.”

“Yeah.” Been through worse, is what you could have said. But worse was debatable. At least in some regard. You could handle being fired. You had savings. You could find another job. Your sister always said you had the uncanny ability to land on your feet. You’d let her keep that assumption. It wouldn’t be the first one she’d made about you. “Can I make a phone call now?”

Soap tapped a finger against the papers and his blue eyes were full of pity. You almost hated it. “I’ll ask Laswell.”

Well, that wasn’t a firm no, at least.

It had been a few days since your interrogation with Ghost. You had deduced that you were on a military base of some sort, with the people walking by in uniform and the staccato of gun shots at exactly eight o’clock in the morning, every morning. Probably a firing range. While you weren’t allowed out of your beige hospital room, they were kind enough to bring you a few very well worn novels to help pass the time. Again…it was fine.

The door opened a few minutes later and Ghost and Laswell walked in, a large black brick looking contraption tucked beneath Laswell’s arm. Your heart stuttered for just a moment. A satellite phone?

“You need to understand that anyone you call could be in danger. Used against you.”

The next breath rattled behind your teeth. You had expected that. You knew that. But your sister deserved at least something. “Did you see her in my file?”

“Who?”

“My sister.”

Laswell’s answering quiet was all you needed. Good.

“I’ll keep it quick,” you said, stretching out your good arm toward the phone. “Promise.”

“Any funny business-”

“I’ll expect a bullet between the eyes. Yeah, sure. Can I please have the phone?”

Ghost made that huffing sound again and you felt the corners of your mouth push into a twitching smile for just a heartbeat to two. The phone was weighty in your palm as you plugged in the number and held it up to your ear. It rang twice before… “Hello?”

“Hey, Kirby.”

There was an answering giggle and it shifted a weight on your shoulders. “Hey stranger! I thought you were living it up in London for a few days more? Thought you were gonna call me when you were home.”

“Oh, um. So there’s been a change of plans. I’m gonna stay for a little longer. I’ve been asked to consult at one of the archives here.”

Kirby hummed, crackling the line. “Consult. You’re so important. That mean you left-”

“They fired me, actually.”

She gasped. You imagined her clutching her phone tighter, placing another hand over her heart. She was always so delicate. Outraged on your behalf, too. “No!”

“Yeah. But it’s okay. You said I needed a new job anyway.” You shut your eyes, feeling them burn with tears. Lying to her didn’t feel right. She was the only person in the world you trusted.

“They were awful to you. But, you always land on your feet, don’t you?”

You smiled despite it all, wobbly and crooked. God, you missed her. “I try. But I didn’t want you to worry if you didn’t hear from me for a bit as I get settled here.”

Kirby laughed. “You’re the worrier, not me.”

“That’s true.” You were. And even know, with a bullet wound and a supposed bounty on your head, you worried about your little sister. You might worry about her forever, actually.

“You’ll still be able to make it to the delivery, right?” The smallest bit of trepidation dipped into the syllables. Kirby wasn’t scared often and it twisted at your marrow. “I need you to hold my hand.”

You opened your eyes and looked at Laswell and Ghost, lifting your chin a bit. You were going to be there. Come hell or high water. Or more terrorists. “Wouldn’t miss it, Kirbs. You know that.” You eventually said your goodbyes and “I love you” and “I love you, too” before ending the call with a quiet, “give the little one a hello for me, okay?”

The phone clicked in your hand and you let it slip back into Laswell’s grip when she reached for it. “Any other family you need to call that wasn’t in any of your files?” The question was tinged with exhaustion.

You didn’t feel bad. “No. It’s just her.”

Laswell frowned but said nothing else as she strode from the room.

You expected Ghost to follow. He seemed fond of doing that. But he didn’t. His unmoving stare was anchored on you. “Why wouldn’t your file show your sister?”

Well, he certainly cuts to the chase. “It’s a long story.”

His large arms crossed over his broad chest (you ignored how your heart hiccuped. God he was so big.) “We’ve got time.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!

[angelsfat3]

ⓘㅤ 𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐄. ⠀⠀( 永远。)

𝓢ummary “ ✉. Why can't you understand that you are what he always dreamed of? He won't let you go easily, ever.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Dramatic, suspense dark, poem, sci-fi, Victorian era.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Blood, murder, mentions of kidnapping, poison, manipulation (?), yandere Heeseung.

His hand was rigid, fingers cramped with pain as the inked quill raced frantically across the blood-stained page. Heeseung, the author of thousands of unsent letters, was writing yet another, pouring into it endless scenarios where you and he would never stop loving each other.

Around him, the walls of his room were a grotesque shrine dedicated to you. Poorly printed photographs filled every corner, images where he had cut and taped his face over those of your friends, your colleagues, even your ex-lovers.

They were clumsy, almost childlike collages, but to him, they were perfect—tangible proof of the life that should have been his with you.

As his eyes scanned those distorted pictures, his quill continued its desperate writing, as though with every word he could twist fate and finally pull you into his arms.

What was different about this letter? Perhaps it was the desperation. Or maybe it was the hatred that laced every word. Because this time, he wrote with a shattered heart, knowing you were about to be married. Not for love, you claimed, but out of duty—a union to bind two kingdoms, sealing a great alliance. Something practical. Something devoid of emotion… or so you thought.

But to Heeseung, this was an unforgivable betrayal. A mockery of every scenario he had imagined, of every letter he had painstakingly written. The fury consuming him had driven him too far once before, far enough to land him in a dungeon for weeks after his last desperate attempt—a dark ritual in which he had tried to bind your souls together for eternity.

He hadn’t cared about taking your life or his; in his mind, an eternity together was worth any price.

Now, as he wrote this letter, his eyes burned with an inhuman fire. It was perhaps a farewell—or a veiled promise that, even in death, he would never let you escape.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸻

ㅤ Il mio unico amore.

By the time your delicate fingers, as perfect as the work of a celestial sculptor, touch even the ribbon enclosing these words, I will have already departed from this vile world. But do not weep, my angel, for my blood, yes, my very essence, is here, spilled upon this page as an eternal pact. I have died for you, but not without ensuring a path to my arms. We will finally be together, my beautiful angel.

By the time your delicate fingers trace the edge of this letter, you will have already begun to devour me completely. Did you know there are poisons so sublime that they do not need to be drunk or eaten? A marvelous idea, don’t you think? With every touch, with every breath, I have offered you this silent gift, this sweet passage into eternity.

But fear not, my angel. Death will be but a whisper to you, a kiss upon your chest that will make your heart cease its futile thumping. Tonight, when the moon watches over your bed and you surrender to sleep, you will feel a slight pressure in your chest, as if my invisible hand were claiming what has always been mine. There will be no pain, I swear on every drop of blood I have spilled for you. Only silence, my love, and then… us. United in an eternal world, a world where no one else can touch you, look at you, or even think of you. Only I, as it was always meant to be.

Isn’t it beautiful? Imagine it: you and I, loving each other once more, in soul and flesh, in an infinite cycle of adoration, more of me for you, you know it perfectly. There is no escape, but you will not need one. For in death, my beautiful love, you will be entirely mine, as you always should have been. And when the time comes, when your eyes finally close and eternity embraces us, I will be waiting for you on the other side. With my lips, still hungry for you, and with a love that transcends madness itself.

I love you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸻

A bloodied, dark, and withered thumb seals these words with the last bit of sanity Heeseung ever possessed.

The letter lay there, on the desk, the words stained with the deadly promise left in its ink.

The room was shrouded in a sepulchral stillness, but within you, terror began to grow like an unstoppable wave. Your breathing became erratic, your hands trembling and sweaty as they gripped the letter, your eyes scanning the words, again and again.

No... This couldn't be happening.

Your heart began to pound, wild, slamming against your ribs with each frantic beat. Panic flooded every corner of your being, causing reality to crumble, logic to vanish like smoke in the air.

You could feel the pressure in your chest, as though every word written there was pulling you into the abyss.

Heeseung had been clear, too clear, but how could he? Why? Why now?

The letter seemed to come alive.

“You will die with me.”

The poison, that sweet promise of union... enveloped you, suffocating you with the sweetness of a deadly embrace. You couldn't escape, not even now, not even knowing that what he said was true.

The ink, the blood, the vow that there would be no distance between his death and yours... Everything surrounded you, trapped you, made you feel as if your soul were already condemned to pure hell.

The air thickened in the room, and the pressure in your chest grew. Panic wouldn’t allow you to think clearly; you could only feel the poison spreading inside you, slow but sure.

That dark desire, that unhealthy obsession with possessing you, marking you, showing the world you belonged to someone, was taking control of you, your mind, your body. You looked at your hands, hoping to find something, some sign that this was just madness, but all you found was the echo of despair.

Then you understood, at last. The ritual hadn’t ended. The poison had been inside you from the beginning; now you understood why you always fell ill, why your body was weak, why you couldn’t even walk properly anymore.

The words written on that letter were not just letters, they were a curse. And the last piece of the puzzle was simple. Heeseung hadn’t died yet. No, he was waiting for you. He was waiting for you to cross that line, to join him in his eternal madness.

Your body trembled, fear was tearing your sanity apart, but there was something else, something deeper, something you couldn’t deny. A call, a need, a twisted desire that was beginning to grow inside you, like a seed now consuming you completely. The obsession was no longer just his, it was yours too.

With each beat, you were getting closer to death. With each second, your soul was slowly slipping toward him, toward that darkness from which you would never escape.

“No…” you thought for a moment. “I don’t want to go…”

The weight of your body fell onto the cold floor of the large room, a dull thud that echoed like a whisper in the void.

Pain spread like a wave through your veins, and your breathing grew more difficult, as if each breath was an effort too great. The poison in your blood became stronger with each passing second, as if it were saturating every cell, every corner of your being. Your hands tried to hold onto the floor, but your fingers didn’t respond, loosening as though you could no longer control them, as if you were falling apart from the inside.

Your vision blurred, the edges of the room began to distort.

The air grew heavy, your mind filled with thick fog, but just when you felt the darkness would claim you completely, something changed. Something in the air.

The window, which had been closed before, opened with a soft creak, almost like a whisper. The cold breeze sliced through the dense stillness surrounding you, but that chilling sensation was quickly replaced by something more... familiar. More unsettling.

You turned with effort, and there, in the doorway of the window, stood he.

Heeseung.

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be real. Your whole body trembled, terror once again intoxicated you, but it wasn’t an illusion.

It was him, completely alive, intact, standing there with a terrifying calm. His eyes... red, penetrating, glowed with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the darkness itself. As if the entire world had vanished, except for him, except for that all-encompassing presence that gripped your chest.

He smiled, a twisted, unsettling grin, as though everything had been planned from the very beginning. As though he was savoring each second, every weak heartbeat your heart gave as it bled out in his trap.

“Have you ever wondered, my love, why I didn’t kill you when I could?” His voice was soft, almost a caress, but it was laden with an imminent threat, as though he was speaking of something that had already gone beyond death itself.

He had been watching you from the beginning. There was no poison, no trap. The poison had never been in your veins. The poison had been just a pretext, another lie in a game you never imagined Heeseung would play with you.

“I didn’t kill you... directly. I wanted you to suffer what I felt when you left me.” He continued, stepping toward you with disturbing calm, his footsteps echoing like a racing heartbeat in the emptiness of the room. “Your mind and your heart have always been mine, why didn’t you ever realize it? The poison I made you drink when I pushed you away from everyone... well, that was just to make sure everything played out. But all this time…” His eyes sparkled with something else, something almost playful. “All this time, the poison was eating away at vital parts of you.”

You tried to get up, but your legs didn’t respond.

You were trapped, not only by the poison you had believed to be real, but by the power of his presence, by the inevitable and fatal attraction you had always felt toward him. He knew it. He had always known it.

Heeseung leaned toward you, taking your face in his hands with the tenderness of someone caressing a rare treasure, and his lips whispered near your ear.

“Welcome... to the final step, my love. We will never be apart again. You are mine, forever.”

The room began to crumble, every contour, every shadow, becoming more blurred as the poison started to take its true form within you. The air thickened, suffocating you, and your heart no longer beat strongly, only with an irregular, slow rhythm. The floor was still beneath you, cold and hard, and as you tried to raise your hands, you felt the world disintegrating.

You were trapped between agony and paralysis, unable to move, unable to scream, while your vision blurred. The air grew denser, each breath more difficult, but the worst of all was the sound coming from Heeseung, beside you.

Heeseung moved closer, his eyes glowing with that unsettling, almost feverish light. His smile, the one that never faded, seemed more dangerous than ever. The gaze he gave you was filled with satisfaction.

His face shifted abruptly, now completely distorted into a mix of false panic and dark satisfaction. His voice, barely a whisper, slid into your ears.

“No... n-no...! Why?! Why did you do this?!” His tone was a mixture of horror and fear, but it was clear there wasn't an ounce of truth in his words.

As he looked at you, it felt as if he was savoring every second of your suffering. His hands, so soft in appearance, placed themselves on you with a false urgency, trying to remove the dagger.

“Oh God, no! Don’t die, [...]!” The falseness in his voice was palpable, but terror was well represented in his eyes. “I love you!... I promised I would save you!... no... No, no, no!...” His words mixed with sobs that were nothing but an act.

As he tried to slide the dagger, he rubbed his thumb over the blade, as though concerned for your well-being. But the truth was that he was ensuring everything went according to his plan.

That everything followed its course.

Before you could react, if that was even possible, you felt a cold, a pressure on your chest, as if something was piercing your skin. The dagger, small and sharp, easily sank into your heart, its cold tip piercing your ribs as though they were paper. A deep, unbearable pain coursed through your being, as if the poison were seeping through every corner of your veins.

At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed through the mansion's hallway. The servants were arriving, as if in slow motion. The appearance was like a light in the darkness, but they had no idea what had really happened.

They were about to enter hell without knowing it.

“What happened here?!” shouted one of the servants, seeing the body lying on the ground, eyes glazed with pain, the dagger still embedded in your chest. Your breathing, though weak, became more audible, and panic began to run through the veins of everyone present.

Heeseung, at that moment, suddenly stood up, his face transforming into an image of feigned despair. “Please, someone, help me!” His voice rose in a scream of anguish, completely theatrical.

“He-he stabbed himself! I tried to stop him… I tried to tell him no, I wanted to help him but I couldn’t get it out in time!” The lie flowed so naturally it almost seemed believable. In that instant, he looked at them with a face of absolute horror. “He said he’d rather die... than keep pretending...”

The servants quickly approached, but they didn’t know who to trust.

The scene was confusing. Heeseung, with retaliations and previously locked up in a cell, seemingly full of horror, standing next to you, his hands covered in your blood, and you, almost dying, unable to defend yourself.

“Please!” Heeseung sobbed, his face showing a mixture of despair and feigned desperation. “He’s dying! Help him!”

One of the servants tried to approach to remove the dagger, but Heeseung stopped him with a desperate scream. “Don’t touch it! He could die if you take it out!”

Chaos began to spread, but you knew there wasn’t much time left. The poison spread like a black tide, reaching your neck, your limbs, stealing everything that remained of you. Your heart was beating, but each beat was weaker, and soon you felt nothing.

“He... he...” you murmured in an inaudible sigh, looking at Heeseung with glazed eyes, unable to comprehend how you had fallen into his game. But he, far from showing remorse, leaned toward you once more, his lips curving into a triumphant smile.

“I told you, you’d never escape me. I promised you when you left me in front of the roses.” His voice was soft, like a whisper, but every word was laden with malice. “You should’ve rejected the marriage when I told you.”

The desperation of the servants grew as they began to murmur among themselves, wondering what to do, but there was nothing they could do. Nothing but witness how your life faded away, how Heeseung had won.

All that remained was the echo of his laughter, ringing in your mind as your eyes slowly closed, never to open again.

When you finally exhaled your last breath, Heeseung no longer pretended. He smiled, satisfied, while the servants watched, unaware. And he, without hurry, began to walk toward the door, leaving behind a scene of absolute horror, as his words floated in the air like an eternal curse.

“Now, finally, it’s my turn.”

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ Next time I'll just do something like this and see which member looks better with the poem I write. ︐⠀📍

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

˖⠀⠀ ݁⠀©⠀،،⠀If you liked it you can like, follow me or reblog!!

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: nerd!anakin x f!reader

𝓕𝓛𝓤𝓕𝓕 ❦

School's bell rings, but ANAKIN SKYWALKER doesn’t move. His friends have already stood up, leaving in laughter as they talked about their weekend plans. Anakin's eyes never stayed on one spot, hands fidgeting with the strap of his bag. He knows he should just pack up and leave, but all he can think about is you.

How you smiled at him. How you looked at him. Like he wasn’t just some awkward, nerdy guy who stammers in the hallway. Like he was worth noticing. You made him feel butterflies not only in his stomach but flying all over his body, messing with his brain and next words he'd nervously mutter

He finally stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Long legs carried him into the crowded hallway of your highschool filled with nothing but chaos and noise. He only needed a few seconds before spotting you by your locked, fiddling with the combination lock, your brows furrowed in the cutest way that made his heart do a flip

Okay, Skywalker. Now or never.

With a deep breath and an anxiously running fingers through his curls he began taking conscious steps forward. He practiced this moment a hundred times in his head—what to say, how to stand, what tone to use. He even wrote a few options down last night, crossing out the ones that sounded too cheesy.

But as he only got closer, every carefully taught and planned word vanished from his brain on an instant

“Uh, hey!” he blurted out, too loud, startling himself and maybe you, too.

What a great start.

You glanced over your shoulder, face lighting up when you see him yet you can't lie about jolting at the sudden voice near you. “Oh, hey, Anakin.”

And there it was again—that angelic smile that turned his knees to jelly.

“I, uh, I was just wondering…” He scratched the back of his neck, tie feeling tighter and tighten around his neck. “Do you, um—do you need help carrying your books? Or… walking? To class, I mean. Not, like, in general. I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of walking by yourself. I just thought…” He trailed off, internally screaming. What are you even saying?!

Yet you, the angel straight from heaven, laughed it off. Not in a mean way, but in that sweet way that made him want to simultaneously melt and die of the embarrassment. “Sure, I’d like that. Thanks.”

“Yeah? Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” He cleared his throat, trying to act like this is totally, completely casual for him. Like his entire world isn’t exploding because you just said yes.

You close your locker, and he quickly reaches out to grab your books before you can. His hand brushes yours, and he swears he feels actual sparks. You don’t seem to notice, just thanking him as you start walking side by side.

The hallway feels impossibly long, every second stretching into an eternity. He tried not to stare at you, he really did, but it was impossible. You right there, looking so effortlessly gorgeous,. when he’s a mess.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence. “How’s physics treating you? You looked a little distracted today.”

“I, uh…” He stumbles over his words, cheeks turning bright red. “I was, um, thinking about…stuff.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, curiosity sparkling in your too pretty eyes. “What kind of stuff?”

You. That’s what he wanted to say. You and your stupidly perfect smile and how you make me forget how to function.

Instead, he shrugged awkwardly. “Just, uh, you know. Physics stuff.”

You giggle; the sound he just wants to bottle up and keep by his side forever. “Right. Physics stuff. Got it.”

Before he could embarrass himself further, you stopped in front of your next class. “This is me,” you said, nodding your head towards the doors.

“Oh. Cool. Yeah, cool.” He handed you your books, fingers trembling slightly.

“Thanks for walking me,” your smile softer this time, almost shockingly shy.

“Anytime,” he blurted out without much thoughts, voice cracking. “I mean, yeah. No problem. Totally.”

You gave him one last bright smile before heading into the classroom, and he just stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door like an idiot.

When he finally snapped out of it and heads to his own class, he’s practically floating. Sure, he might’ve said some dumb stuff, but you didn’t just laugh at him (in nice way). You even smiled at him. And that felt even better than every treasure he had in his life.

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